Deception
by Zelda Zonkk
Summary: When you delve into a person's mind, you will find the strangest things. Michael Scofield happens to be the hardest person to crack. And he's decided he wants me to help them escape. Just one problem...T-Bag. MichaelxOC. T to be safe.
1. Introduction

_Introduction_

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When you delve into a person's mind, you will find the strangest things; perhaps they've been dreaming of unicorns since the age of six, and still believe in them. Perhaps they think they're famous, and are shocked when you try to tell them they're not. A person can create walls within their minds and it's hard to tear them down. It's vulnerability that stops them from letting you take them down.

What if I asked you to let me take down the walls in your mind? Would you let me? Or would you like to keep things secret? It wouldn't matter anyway. I could probably get in without your help. Because humans let their secrets go every once in a while without meaning too. A flick of the wrist, or a twitch. It can tell me a million things about you.

I can know if you 'accidentally' pushed your annoying neighbour down ten flights of stairs. I'll know if you killed a man, or if you regret it. It's all in your expression. Imagine it, after all that time a person spends building up the walls to protect their minds, I can just waltz in and ruin it without even touching anything. So it's kind of a waste of time really. It's sad sometimes, the things I see.

A person who hurt someone without meaning to. Or someone who got hurt themselves, and just block it out 'cause they don't like the pain that comes with dealing with it. They believe it's better not to remember. It builds up, and I promise you that one day the pressure will drive them insane. Or maybe they were born with the demons that haunt them today. Mental diseases can't stop a person from living their lives, there's people there to help.

But there are other people who exist without these problems, who don't have the same sort of demons, and who refuse help. And they are the type of people that the media call 'monsters'. But that's just to make money. They have never spoken to these people, yet they can write pages and pages about them. Books, documentaries…

Inside everyone, there is a thing that makes them tick. And I usually need a key to unlock it and tell me what I need to know. I have been interrogated myself, and it has gotten them no where. My old doctor came up with a 'cure' to make me tell the secrets they're dying to know. The police force, the media, the other inmates want to know.

My doctor spent months and months working on my case, but his final prognosis came as something of a shock. He believes that the only way to make me crack is to send me to an all-male prison. No, they will not leave me to shower with them and they won't let me pretend to be a man in order to fit in, because my old doctor believes that will mess the whole thing up.

No, I will have different times to bathe, and I'll be in my own cell. With a new doctor, because frankly my old doctor has grey hairs from dealing with me now. He gave up, but he'd never admit it to me. He says that he's 'trying something different'. It's like a test, to see if I'll finally open up and tell them what I did and why.

Perhaps it'll work. I'm just not sure I want any of these new male prisoners trying to get into my mind like the last female prison. Though Fox Rivers doesn't sound so bad, really. I hope.


	2. Hello Michael

**A/N: **_Hey! Well, I've never written a story for Prison Break so wish me luck. I obviously know they'd never really send a woman to an all-male prison, but eh, what can you do? And again, about the whole Emilie knowing what a person feels like from their expressions and stuff, most of it is made up so I hope you don't all really believe what is written about that. I hope you like it :D:D Enjoy!_

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_Chapter One – Hello Michael _

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"You better shut up, maggot."

Bellick is a short man, with not much hair on his head and frown lines that look very, very deep. Even if the man he's yelling at is taller than him, he doesn't look scared. He looks as if he's happy to be in control. He's arrogant, and I can tell by how he draws his eyebrows together in confusion that he's wondering why this guy isn't cowering in fear. I don't believe anyone should cower in fear of him.

"Emilie J Robins, how was the trip here?" he barks, turning to face me.

The line of men beside me, on both sides, turn and stare, mouths slightly open at the sight of a mere woman amongst the males. I resisted that feeling to roll my eyes and spit at Bellick. Instead, I smiled back and nodded.

"It was fine. A little bit boring though, since no one here likes to talk much. I think it's the depressing atmosphere."

"Well they ain't goin' to Disneyland Robins," he muttered in disgust. I took a quick mental sketch of him, forcing his image to stick in my mind.

"I've never been to Disneyland either, but I'm sure this place is going to be just as fun Mr Bellick," I said sweetly. This man was clearly easily angered. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowed. He straightened up, and this all told me he didn't like me. He almost _growled_ at me, but kept his composure.

I watched him turn his back to me, as if he was trying to show me just how much he disliked me. I smiled and nudged the guy next to me.

"Looks like I hit a nerve."

My plan worked. I wasn't finished checking Bellick's personality out. I needed to know as much about him as possible, and the other guards weren't much more interesting. Bellick happened to have the flicker of hatred flowing around him, unlike the other guards who were plain boring. He spun on his heels and marched back up to me, poking me in the chest, and frowning again.

"Give us a smile, Bellick. You'd swear you were the one going to prison," I said loudly. The other inmates snickered too, which just added fuel to his anger. I was smiling brightly, just trying to see how far I could push him.

Bellick let his walls come down easily. He began yelling at me, spittle running down his mouth. I kept smiling, and he barked at the other guard to lead us to our cells. The whole way there, he stood by my side and yelled at me.

"If you think you'll get special treatment here, then you're wrong Robins, and if you think you're funny then you're not."

He was so loud he even rattled the other prisoners up, who lazily rolled off their beds and stood, leaning out of the cells to watch him. They catcalled, laughing at him and egging him on. Some watched me like I was meat, but that just told me who to watch out for.

"What are you lookin' at Bagwell?" Bellick yelled at one man who was eyeing me up and down with a slick grin.

"Just checkin' out the fresh meat there Bellick. Looks like that little Lady's got you all rattled up."

Bellick ignored him, and I watched him go into an office and come back out with a light beige file in his hand, with "Robins, J. Emilie" scribbled on the front. My file looked rather large, with papers almost falling out. I smiled as he growled at me and took my forearm, dragging me to the cell where I'd spend the rest of my sentence.

"Five years, eh Robins…enjoy it," he sniggered.

"Oh yes, because you going home to eat TV dinners by yourself sounds much more entertaining," I retorted.

His face went red, and I was sure he would take every opportunity to get me back for this. He slammed the cell door shut and I heard him storm off.

"Hey wait, Bellick man where are you going? You don't want to hang out? C'mon, I thought we were friends!" I yelled after him, roaring with laughter. Oh he was fun! I liked Bellick. He made things so much more interesting.

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Luckily for me, I didn't have to wait very long to see my favourite guard again. He opened the cells with a look of pure disgust on his face and told me to 'freshen up to see Tancredi'. Whoever that was. Apparently, this was my new doctor since the old guy thought sending me to a male prison would 'crack' me.

A man was waiting outside the cell too. He was in Cell 40, the one beside mine. He didn't seem to talk much. I'd heard the other guy talk though, a man called Sucre. He was louder than this man, and I'd heard him sing a few times too. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but after a few minutes of staring at a grey wall your mind starts to wonder.

"Scofield, this is the woman all the prisoners were talking about," Bellick muttered, storming off ahead of us. Oh, so he wouldn't even tell 'Scofield' my name?

"Hello Scofield, I'm 'Woman'!" I smiled at him. He cracked a small smile, almost restraining himself. "Clearly I don't deserve to have a real name since Bellick has no idea how to charm the ladies."

"I've noticed. I'm Michael, by the way. Not just Scofield," Scofield chuckled, walking after Bellick.

"Yeah, I'm Emilie actually."

I walked normally too, until Bellick turned around. Whenever he turned around, I would start skipping. It made his blood boil and all I wanted to do was annoy him more. It wasn't that I couldn't figure Bellick out, because I knew exactly what was wrong with Bellick. He couldn't stand the idea of me not being afraid of him.

"Why are you skipping?" Michael asked.

I leaned in closer, making sure Bellick wouldn't hear. "Bellick's behaviour patterns are pretty much the same, but I think I can make him crack if I annoy him…"

"Why do you want to make Bellick crack?"

I shrugged. "I don't really have a reason. It's just like practice."

Michael nodded as if he understood completely. He seemed to be thinking very deeply, his eyebrows drawn together and his jaw set. He held his hands close together and walked quickly. I jogged along beside him.

"So, is Tancredi 'treating' you too Scofield?" I asked politely.

He shook his head. He said slowly, "I have type 1 diabetes."

Something clicked in my mind. He was lying. He said it carefully, so Bellick would hear but not suspect anything, and he looked me straight in the eye. He knew a little bit about how to hide a lie, that was for sure. Usually people don't look someone in the eye when they lie. He leaned back too, which is another sign someone is lying, as if he wanted me to know.

"Oh I understand," I giggled.

He smiled, and from his expression he knew that I knew he was lying. Bellick was blissfully unaware. For a guard, it might help if he knew more about lies. I sat and watched Sara Tancredi, my new doctor tapped a needle. She watched me too, out of the corner of her eye.

She felt nervous, I believe. She didn't actually focus on me. Her eyes darted back and forth, yet Michael was completely calm. His focus stayed on her, though he let it down a few times to look at me and nod or half-smile as an acknowledgment. Bellick stood outside the door, tapping his foot impatiently.

Bellick wasn't happy to deal with me, I could tell.

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Poor Michael would have to sit outside for a half-hour while I spoke to Tancredi. She said as the months went on, our meetings would probably get longer, but this was just to get 'friendly'. She tapped her pen as she spoke, clearing her throat a few times too.

"Are you feeling nervous?" I asked. She almost jumped, probably because I'd spoken once to tell her my name for the whole twenty-eight minutes we'd talked so far.

"N-No." Lie no.1. "I'm totally fine." Lie no.2. "I just feel a little tired." Lie no.3.

I laughed and she cleared her throat again. "You are the worst liar I've ever met! Even Bellick is better than that."

Sara finally let go and laughed too. "Your files mentioned you had a thing for lies."

I shrugged, and decided to look around her office. She had a picture of herself and a man, probably her dad judging by her expression and her body posture. I rolled my head back towards her lazily, blowing a raspberry.

"Oh look at that Doc, time is up. You've been great, really, much more fun than my last doctor. Work on your lies though. See you next time," I smiled, standing. She became completely flustered and stood, shaking my hand before sitting back down and wishing me 'luck'.

I left and skipped along beside Bellick as Michael trudged behind us.

"I bet you missed me, didn't you?" I almost tripped, since they had put chains on my wrists too.

Bellick snorted. "You better watch yourself around here Robins."

"I'm sure I'll have a strapping, charming man such as yourself to protect me from the big bad criminals," I replied, with a serious tone that made his head snap towards me. Michael made the mistake of laughing, putting Bellick in an even worse mood. He almost threw me into my own cell after letting Michael back into his.

"Sleep tight Robins," Bellick hissed sarcastically.

"Oh I will Bellick. Make sure you pick me up for our date tomorrow," I sniggered. "Or the big bad criminals might just get there first!"

He didn't reply, but the sound of his shoes tapping against the polished floors told me he was still mad at me. Michael and Sucre were talking to each other for the rest of the night, and I'm certain I heard my name mentioned. Stupid, stupid big bad criminals…


	3. The Lady's Soul

_Chapter Two – The Lady's Soul _

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_In some religions, they believe that when you take a life, you lose your soul. You're damned to an eternal hell, where demons poke you with fiery spears and you repent for your sins. I suppose that a murderer deserves it, but I didn't believe I had lost my soul. True, I am a killer, and yes, I am afraid that I've lost my soul somewhere along the way but…Do I deserve it?

My punishment was not to be sent to a fiery hell, left to rot for eternity. Perhaps the judge wasn't particularly religious to begin with, or maybe he simply thought this would work better, but whatever the reason they sent me to Fox Rivers. It was my doctor's idea in the first place, but it was that judge's decision that changed it and made it official. A male prison, but that doesn't bother me. It's the fact that I think my soul is gone that bothers me. The soul is what makes you human, doesn't it?

Whether you believe in God or not, I'm sure you think that you have a soul. Something that makes you unique and that makes you…well, you. In all honesty, I'm not religious. Though I sound it. You know what's absolutely horribly funny?

I read about Lincoln Burrows long before I met him in person; and I thought he was a bad person. Murderer, I remember thinking, a bad guy who deserved to be where he is. Perhaps there's someone out there who read my story in the papers and thought the same thing, and they think I deserve to be where I am. With the amount of news that surrounded my story, I think it's probable.

"Robins, you alive in there?" a guard called.

"Barely," I replied quietly, tugging the pillow over my face. I heard the guard sigh and open my cell. Of course he didn't hug me and say, 'Oh Emilie, you're fine, come on we'll go get some marshmallows' or anything. He considered me far too dangerous for that.

Instead, he told me to get up in the strictest voice possible. When I didn't respond, he tried to poke my leg and told me I had a while to wander around the prison yard with other inmates. Michael was about the only real person I knew so far, and he seemed fairly nice. I doubt I'd make many friends though. So I rolled off the bed, looking right up at the grey ceiling.

"Robins, what are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, I can't seem to stand up because I'm too tired."

He growled at my reluctance and turned to leave. I sighed myself and stood, and he grabbed me roughly by the chains before tugging me along. He wasn't in the mood to chat, and I wondered distantly where my newest buddy Bellick was. This guard simply locked the gates to the yard, and I rubbed my wrists where the chains came off and stretched, glancing around the yard.

Glares. Growls. Hatred. Spite. That's all I got back, until Michael spotted me and strolled right up to me.

"You finally got out of the cell? Bellick mentioned you were being difficult," he murmured, squinting in the sunlight. He blocked the sun with a tanned hand and smiled at me. "You were missing Bellick, I guess," he laughed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh totally, with his tendency to get so mad at me and be annoyed by me, what's to miss?"

Michael put a firm hand on my shoulder, leading me towards a mesh-wired fence. He leaned against it, breathing deeply and waiting. I sat, running my hands through my hair. Five years of this. I suppose with Mike it wouldn't be so horrible, but I imagined the days in my cell. Alone.

"Emilie, stand up for a second."

"Seriously," I frowned, leaning against the gate and closing my eyes. The sun was so bright and hot. I couldn't believe some guys were actually working out in this heat. Michael sighed and pulled at my shoulders.

"Don't be lazy," he scolded, still smiling a little. "I want you to meet my brother."

"Meeting the family already are we? I'm sorry Mike, I didn't bring any of mine. They couldn't make it," I joked, standing up. I turned, my eyes meeting with familiar emotionless ones. Lincoln Burrows. He gave a grim smile, and I suppose being on death row wasn't all it cracked up to be. The movies made it glamorous it appeared.

"Hello Emilie," Lincoln smiled.

"Hiya," I replied, totally unsure of myself. I'd read about him, of course. Back when I supposedly had a soul. A judgemental one at that.

"So, you're the girl everyone's been talking about. Including those on death row," he told me solemnly. I nodded and shrugged.

"I'm pretty popular, as you can tell," I muttered, motioning towards the only other person near me – Michael. Of course, he was focused completely on us, but I saw his eye wandering towards a man that was watching with his arms folded.

"T-Bag giving you trouble Mike?"

He said it so seriously and firmly he made it sound as if he could really do something about it. Like jump over the gate and snap this 'T-Bag's' head off. Michael shook his head, turning back to us. I took the time to watch T-Bag's expressions and learn about him.

Jealousy, for something. He watched me too, and was only lustful for a moment before he caught both of the brothers turning to look at him. He unfolded his arms, a sign he was challenging them to take him on. Lincoln only turned back and smiled.

"He won't do anything Emilie."

Let's hope you're right, Lincoln.

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"Where are they going?"

Michael looked up at the group heading down a hallway. "Chapel," he said simply.

"Chapel! We have a chapel. Oooh, fancy," I said quietly.

"You're allowed to go there Emilie," he murmured, drawing something in the dirt. I leaned over to look at it, but he rubbed his hand into the dirt, messing the image. He scrunched the dirt up in his hand before opening his fist and letting it fall slowly. He sighed and looked towards the sky, closing his eyes as he leaned back against the fence.

"I know," I said. "I just…don't know if I should."

Michael paused, but he seemed to wait for me to continue. When I didn't, he let it go. He wasn't going to press.

He sighed once again, and just as I was about to ask him what was wrong, a pair of worn out shoes came into view. My eyes drifted up, trying to see through the sunlight who the person was. Perhaps it was Sucre.

Unfortunately, it was the man, T-Bag.

Michael stood and seemed to block me from him.

"Awh Pretty, you can't expect to keep 'er all to yerself," he chuckled. Michael remained unfazed. He narrowed his eyes at T-Bag, and it looked like he was doing what I always did – taking in a mental sketch of T-Bag's posture and assessing it. "We've been watchin' 'er. You ain't told her nothin', now have you Pretty?"

Michael shook his head slowly. "That would be none of your business anyway, T-Bag."

"I could always make it my business Pretty."

That was a sincere threat, judging by his facial expression. Michael straightened up, and for a moment he seemed to tower over T-Bag.

"I wouldn't do that just so fast T-Bag. She's going to help."

T-Bag turned his gaze to me, causing Michael to let his guard down for just a second. A look of something different crossed his face, some kind of fear of being caught and concern. Then his trademark stare came back and he stayed still.

"Now how's she gonna do that, Pretty if you ain't told her nothin'?"

"I will. Just give it some time."

"Time we ain't got," T-Bag frowned. He glanced towards the fence where poor Lincoln was walking around in circles. When Linc turned and spotted T-Bag near his brother, he started walking in a strong pace towards our fence. T-Bag turned. "See you and Lady later Pretty."

"Lady?" I asked.

"Stupid nickname," Michael murmured quietly, the gears in his mind churning.

T-Bag continued to watch us for the rest of the break. He was scaring me a little, the way he looked like a hungry dog watching his meal. Michael told me not to worry but I wasn't satisfied. What was he going to tell me?

"Emilie, time to go back to the cell," the guard that had taken me out barked. He had actually called me by my name, not by Robins. Then Michael kind of ruined my friendship by telling me he only called me by my name because about three guys near us had the same surname.

"Thanks Mike, thanks a lot. Bye, bye Lincoln," I waved.

He smiled, a little sadly before he was led off too.


	4. A Riot

**A/N: **_Thank you for the reviews and story alerts and favourites (: It's nice to know people are liking this story so much :D And for those who wonder why I'm updating, I've gone from being sort of interested in Prison Break, to obsessed ;D So hopefully, you don't mind these quick updates. Let me know what you think in a review, please! It's actually a little long ;D  
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*****WARNING: there will probably be curses!*****

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**Review Replies; (sorry if I got names wrong! :D)**

**TheImmortalChaplin – **_Thank you so much! :) I hope you don't mind the quick update…I just love to write (: _**Love-x0x - **_*blush* Haha, thank you! :D I'm glad it's becoming one of your favourites, I hope it stays that way (: Thanks again :D_

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_Chapter Three – A Riot_

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The devil with the horns was raising his sword, about to strike with his hands on the wings of what I thought to be an angel. Michael was being careful, tugging his top down before anyone else saw the tattoos. He kept them hidden for the most part, just in case someone had learned too many things.

Michael kept secrets; a lot. How he kept track of so many made me wonder just what his IQ was. It seemed Sara Tancredi was as interested as I was. Our fourth meeting in the week went as badly as the others.

I refused to talk, because I hated how she treated me as if I was a weak little girl because I was the only female prisoner. She leaned back in her chair, sighing and beginning to become a little impatient with me.

"Why won't you just talk Emilie, it'll make you feel better?" she suggested. "Would you like someone to sit with you? Maybe Michael?"

I glanced at her then, and she wasn't quick enough to hide her micro-expression. She had been curious, wondering why I had been so close to him recently. But she had changed her expression from that curious look to a friendlier tone.

My mind started churning. Michael was lying about his diabetes, and I was beginning to think she was getting a little curious about that, too. I got up from the chair, and her eyes became startled. I assumed she didn't really trust prisoners, and didn't like the idea of me freely walking around, whether a guard was present outside or not.

"Emilie, what are you doing?" she asked, clearing her throat and tapping her pen against the table. She did that a lot. It was her way of distracting herself.

"I'm…stretching," I replied. "Surprisingly, doing handstands in your cell is frowned upon."

She chuckled. "How are you so optimistic?"

"I never said I was," I answered curtly, eyeing her up and down. Just because she was sweet didn't mean she was trust-worthy. "I just believe that being friendly to other inmates will help me a little. Or get me killed, since none of them seem to know what 'fun' is."

"Fun doesn't really work in here," she said.

"Nothing seems to work in here."

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Michael was sitting on the benches when I came out of the doctor's office, and he didn't notice me yet. A man with slicked back hair was striding towards him with two buff men on other side. Bellick was beside me, slowly checking which key was the one to open the gate.

He knew exactly which key it was; he just wanted to drag out the time, knowing that I only had a little while 'til the bell would go and I'd be back in the cell. He didn't like me, as you could probably tell and he wanted to make my life hell.

The man was John Abruzzi. A man who held the strings around here, the strings that Michael badly needed to be kept. I watched Michael stand, and looked at Bellick. He pretended to 'drop' the keys.

"Hurry it up shorty," I smiled.

A group of men behind me chucked too, and he got pissed off of course.

"Robins, haven't I already told you to keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut? Or do I have to make you?" Bellick barked.

"Bellick, you ain't gonna hit no lady!" a guy at the back of the group crowed, and his friends laughed loudly and slapped his back. "You ain't no man if you do that!"

I sighed and looked back at Michael, who stood to walk closer to Abruzzi. He said something, and Abruzzi turned. The man on Michael's right punched him, making him double over. My mouth dropped, my ears filled with the sound of prisoners yelling and saying, "Fish is in a fight!"

Everyone had some sort of nickname in here at one point or another, mine being Lady and Michael's being Pretty or Fish. Sometimes Snowflake. Bellick had a disgusting, knowing smile on his face and I gave him a slight shove, as he pushed the key in and turned it. I ran past him, running towards Michael. I almost tripped on the chains, knowing it was possible I could fall and Mike could get even more hurt by my mistake.

Abruzzi's 'friend' saw me coming and grabbed my waist, picking me up and throwing me to the ground.

"Don't try to get involved Robins," he grunted, turning. Bad mistake. I grabbed the ground to push myself off, and I threw myself at him, managing to fling my chains around his neck and pull him to the ground, strangling him. He tugged at the chains, his face almost red.

I kicked his back and let him go, knowing I would more than likely pay for that.

"Robins!" Bellick bellowed. He was talking into a walkie talkie, and I jumped when their was three gunshots. Everyone was getting on the floor, and since I was so confused as to what was going on, I was the only one standing. So I was the one to get tackled. By a man twice my size. Bellick had a smirk on his face when I was picked up by the chains and dragged towards him.

"Michael? Michael!" I called.

He was curled up a little, but he was getting up at least. He nodded at me, and I was thrust towards a red-faced Bellick. Michael was terribly confused as to why I was there, but he began to stumble towards me before a guard blocked him.

"Lady, you just made your first mistake."

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Three days. In solitary.

Simply because of self-defence. It seemed every time I got into trouble, it was in self-defence. I sang to keep myself occupied, or traced imaginary patterns on the wall. But when I did get out of there, and passed Michael's cell, something seemed to be off.

The yard was tense, and I took my seat beside him the next day. "The Doc is getting a little suspicious Em."

I glanced at him, taking in the expressions on his face. He was tapping his foot out of nervousness, but his actually face was perfect. Yes, I admit that Michael Scofield was hot, and I would have no problem telling him. Sort of. "The diabetes you mean?"

"Yes. She's planning a test."

"Wow, three days for almost strangling someone and you miss so much."

"Thank you, for helping me," he shrugged. And when he smiled, it seemed we had one of those nice, happy, romantically awkward moments. To me at least.

"I honestly doubt she'll keep seeing me," I murmured, leaning against the benches. "I haven't really spoken to her at all, so she's getting frustrated. I think she thinks I'm part of a gang," I laughed.

"Well, it's not a gang exactly."

"What?"

"We need to get to Lincoln through Abruzzi's P.I work. I've made a few…friendships," he said uneasily. "…with him, while you were gone…" he tensed. "Sorry about that. And he's agreed to let us work. Though it took a while to convince him to let you on it."

"Oh, 'cause I'm a woman?" I smiled, pretending to be offended.

Michael laughed. "No, because you almost strangled one of his men."

"That's an excuse," I scoffed with a smile. "So _Fish_, what are you going to do about the diabetes?"

"Well _Lady_, I have a plan to get some medicine."

"Medicine?" I asked, a little worried. His shoulders moved up and down as he laughed.

"I'm not a junkie Em," he murmured softly. "It'll just make the doctor think I'm diabetic."

"Right."

* * *

There was even more tension that Michael had failed to tell me about. I had seen it happening, the groups separating into races. Theodore Bagwell or just T-Bag to you, me and just about everyone else in Fox Rivers, had been asking Michael which side he was on, and Michael refused to join any. T-Bag then asked if I was joining, and Michael answered no to that too.

"It's a war between races."

"Oh yes, now really is the best time to be telling me."

We stood in the hall in front of our cell, and he had been hissing all this to me, saying he didn't realize it would happen so quickly, and like this. The guards were testing us, and the tension was so thick it was like you could see it.

I had been in solitary confinement, and didn't expect something like this. First, I had no weapons like the ones I'd seen both sides stuffing up their shirts and in their socks. Concealed weapons that the guards turned a blind eye to. Second, I wasn't sure what I was expected to do. Hit T-Bag's group, or just about anyone who came towards me? Most of the guys here were skinheads that were ten times bigger than me and spent 94.3% of the time working out in the heat while I preferred to sit on the benches and do absolutely nothing. What a workout. I am feeling so lazy right now. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I rolled on my heels back and forth, watching the men glare at each other. Some looked at me, took in my slightly slumped and laid-back posture before looking at some other person and glaring at them instead.

I was also feeling a little scared now, even if I didn't show it. The looks both groups were sending each other were vicious, some of them going as far as to let their weapons show, carefully though so the guards wouldn't see. It was for the opposite groups' eyes only. A direct threat and challenge.

A man in the cells below us took a step forward, and I took in a deep breath. He was white, and probably part of T-Bag's ridiculous little club. That was the man who started it. And that runt T-Bag didn't take long joining in. After that, it was pure chaos.

Michael instantly went to my defence, knowing I could throw a punch, well enough to defend myself but it wasn't enough to hurt anyone here too badly. It was just stunt them for a second before they snapped me in half.

"Remind me to start pumping iron if I make it out of this," I whispered to him.

"You will make it out of this. I promise Emilie," Michael said firmly, looking me in the eye. He must be good with his expressions, because I totally trusted him.

They were all stronger than me and they knew it. For a few blissful moments no one paid attention to us. We were invisible to those who were busy stabbing the others and screaming and punching each other for the sake of violence and race.

It was only when I turned around, a man spotted me and growled. When he lunged forward with a dagger in hand, Michael was quick to grip his arm and twist it, but the man brought up his other arm and the knife he held in it cut my lip. It had only brought out a line of blood running down my chin, but it was enough to make all the other groups think I was apart of this fight.

After that, I got pushed away from Michael. Now I'm on my own in this fight. Did I mention I'm a lazy person who hasn't worked out in a very long time?


	5. Vanish

**A/N: **_So yes, I'll probably add my own little character for the part where Sucre leaves Michael's cell and Haywire comes in, because Emilie needs a story of her own :D I hope you like it…It's long, again._

*****WARNING: CURSES*****

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_Chapter Four – Vanish_

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Barron is huge. Not in a buff, kind of like Lincoln huge, but a huge as in the boy has probably helped himself to thousands of second-helpings. I've been told – well, not told, because I just happened to be behind a group of people talking and since I've made more enemies then friends here, I was eavesdropping and since I'm already a criminal I thought it would do no harm – that he was done for robbing a _restaurant_. The man is huge, and he went to rob a restaurant.

Don't worry, he actually robbed it for money, not what you were thinking I'll bet.

I almost laughed, until I realized it was me he was coming to kill me because he believed I was part of this race riot. Silly, the things that cross your mind when you're in trouble. While he raised his fist to strike me, I was wondering if Sara Tancredi had gotten her work done like she was complaining about yesterday. Barron, a skinhead with tattoos of women in very rude poses, didn't really care if I was part of a fight or not.

I took a step back, and not-so-surprisingly Barron wasn't light on his feet. Who would've guessed it? He stumbled, his eyes widening in alarm before he regained balance. I really should've taken ballet when I was younger, but I was rather busy being a child prodigy if I'm honest. So Barron frowns, veins popping and breathing faster. He's not very fit, as you've probably guessed by the fact he robbed a restaurant and weighs more than a truck filled with bricks does. Okay, slight exaggeration.

But he wasn't very tall either, so it made him look heavier. I dodged him, stepping over a body that lay on the ground. The person stretched out their arm, and my eyes watched the tattooed skin flex and shake.

"Michael?"

He looked up at me, alarmed. He wasn't used to being in fights, and neither was I but Barron was turning out to be a terrible agile fighter. He was simple-minded, that much I could tell. He was still coming at me, just a little slower than before. Blood was on the floor, and the guards were preparing for something I'm sure.

"Get up the stairs and back into the cell," Michael yelled. I nodded, and he vanished into a wild crowd of blue.

"Fucking Robins, I swear to God I will kill you if you don't hold still-…" Barron growled as he lunged forward.

"Barron, that's silly, if you catch me you'll kill me, and if you don't catch me now then you'll get me later so really, no matter what I do I'll end up dead," I reasoned. He didn't seem to enjoy my little joke, I guessed from the sweat on his face and how his mouth was twisted into a horrible frown.

I took a quick step back, balancing on the each of the steps leading to my cell. I noticed his earring catch in the light, and jumped back another step. I had guessed that by the light flashing, it meant he was flexing and tensing, preparing to lunge at me again.

When he did lean forward, smiling maliciously at me like a cat, I kicked him in the face. He screamed before clutching his already bloody nose. I took my chance, and looked to see if their was another threat. Where the Hell was Michael? I was sure I'd broken Barron's nose from the way he screamed.

I saw the back of his head, and wondered if he was hurt. He was crouching slightly, and I was making the quick plans to run over and help him up the stairs, if I could get past Barron in time. But I saw T-Bag staring at Michael, and realized that he was furious. Not even furious, 'cause that doesn't cover it.

I had been so distracted I didn't see Barron come at me until he had me against the wall.

"Got you now Robins," he hissed into my ear. I struggled against him and cursed him.

"Fuck you Barron," I muttered, and cursed him again as he grabbed a fistful of my hair, slamming my head against the wall. The thick thud and echoing in my ears told me I had gotten badly hurt. What if I fell unconscious? And died? That doesn't sound so good, especially having to explain to God – even if I'm not a holy person so much anymore - about why I was being held against the wall by a man who robbed a restaurant.

The giant idiot was saying something, like if he didn't kill me here he'd get me in the yard. He spun me around and growled again. "You see this fist Lady? Yeah, you think you're so smart but I'll smash your brains in, you get me? You should've thought about this more carefully Smarty-pants. Where's Pretty now, huh?"

He slammed my head back against the wall again, and I let out a cry. He let me go for an instant, expecting me to crumble. But I didn't, and although it hurt and I wanted to crumble and pass out right there, I had to get him back once more. I kicked him 'down there' and he did crumble, crying out.

I took the chance to run towards the stairs, sliding and landing on my ass in some blood. I cursed, and looked around the ground floor. Where was Michael? He just-…Ah, now I can see him, and he wasn't very far away from me. T-Bag was staring at him, a look of pure hatred and disgust on his face. I forgot completely about my own expression, with my eyes wide open in fear and my mouth dropped open.

Michael was holding a man, and he seemed to know him. I didn't though, looking from Michael, to T-Bag and back at the guy in Michael's arms who desperately clutched at his shirt. Michael hadn't…he hadn't killed that guy, had he? I didn't think Michael was the violent type. At all, really. He had told me how he'd gotten in here, and accepted that I wasn't ready to tell him why I was there either.

Michael vanished when they threw in some cans, tear gas I guess. I pulled my blue jumpsuit up and covered my mouth. My head was throbbing, and I struggled to stand. Michael's face appeared, saying something and pulling me up by my waist. I clutched onto his bloody top and he pulled me down our hall, towards the cells. He was careful too, dodging the running prisoners trying to avoid the tear gas. Michael was choking, holding a screw in his hand.

He pulled me into his cell, breathing heavily and coughing. He was shaking badly, and he was hugging me, breathing down my neck and unintentionally covering me in blood, some of it mine. Someone ran past the cell door, and he gripped me, jumping back and pulling me with him. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to find an attacker. He was pushing me behind him as if to protect me, which made me a little sad that he felt so scared.

"Michael, please calm down," I said calmly. He was hugging me, and the cell doors were closing.

"I-I'm so sorry Em, I didn't mean…The guy," he babbled. He had never seen someone die. I hadn't either, and was crying like crazy too but I'd hug him for hours if it helped at all. I was sure that Bellick would murder me for being out of my own cell, but I didn't care.

After three minutes, Michael started breathing regularly. He looked at me and then his eyes drifted towards my forehead and he sat up, kneeling on his knees, ripping at his shirt with that serious stare on his face again. I watched him, still shaking with the image of him choking in my head.

He ripped the shirt into strips and spat on it a little. "I'm sorry Em, but this'll sting."

"What will sting-…" I began.

He hid the screw that he had held so tightly that it had left an imprint in his hand. When he stuck the shirt to my forehead I gripped his arm, trying to pull him away and stop him. It felt like he was burning me, but he refused to give up.

"I'm sorry Emilie, but it has to stop bleeding," he said firmly as I clawed at him. "It'll get infected. The Doc will be busy, so I'll have to help you. I'm sorry I didn't help protect you from Barron, but…that guy, the one I called T-Bag's girlfriend…A man stabbed him, and T-Bag thinks I did it…"

He stayed silent, and I could hear T-Bag calling him, telling him he'd 'get him'. Michael stiffened when T-Bag snorted and said, 'Oh, and I'll get Lady all to myself once you're out of the picture.'

"He's just messing with you Mike," I said warmly, trying not to grip his arm so hard.

"Robins!" a voice barked. I had been so scared from the fight I jumped, but Michael stood and walked to the cell door.

"She's been hurt. Barron hit her head, I think, she might need stitches. Her mouth is cut too, if you-…" he started.

"Shut it Scofield. We'll deal with her. You stand away from the cell door and drop any weapons," Bellick hissed, his eyes sending daggers towards poor Mike, who stood there and took them without complaint.

* * *

He had been right. Stitches, and a mark on my mouth as if I had stitches there too. Michael was getting his diabetes test, and I sat outside waiting. I didn't know if he'd pass, but he had repeated over and over that the meds would work. And from the smile on his face when he walked out and how he'd given me a happy nod, it looked like he had.

For once, a guard was taking him back to his cell without me and I had my stitches checked over by Tancredi. She desperately wanted to know who had hurt me, and I suppose we could be friends in time.

"I hope no one is bothering you," she murmured, rubbing some numbing cream on my stitches, that ran right through my eyebrow and stopped above my blue eyes.

"No."

"I was just saying Em, a girl with such beauty," she smiled, "would have a little trouble here."

"I could never, ever compete with you Sara," I smiled back. She took this as some kind of inclination that we were friends, which I was happy about. I liked her. She was the only woman I could come into contact with, which I was grateful for.

* * *

After two days on lock down, I was walking back to my own cell after a private shower, my mind wandered and I began thinking about Michael. I hadn't seen him in two days, having dealt with Tancredi's ever-persistent therapy meetings. I passed Michael's cell and looked in, hoping to see him looking back but he was lying down, and I spotted bandages around his foot.

"Michael?"

His head shot up, and he must've guessed from my face that I had seen. He stayed silent, but mouthed something that vaguely looked like, 'I'll explain later' or 'I'll tell you later'. Same thing. I was still nervous, shaken from that fight and I guessed it showed.

I leaned against my wall. My hands shook, and I thought about Barron and T-Bag. This plan of Michael's was starting to get bigger, turning into more of a war with more soldiers each time. I ran my hands through my hair and a tear slid down my cheek when I thought of the blood on Michael's foot, but I wiped it away and stood up.

And even if it was frowned upon and the other prisoners laughed at me for a while before getting bored of me and going back to lying on their beds, I started doing handstands against the wall just for lack of anything to do. It also stopped me thinking about what Barron would do if he got the chance. Forget it Emilie, just relax. You're safe for now.


	6. The Cellmate

**A/N: **_New chapter! Yay! :D Oh yeah, and in this chapter I mention how Emilie got sent there and I'm not sure about it, but it was the best I could come up with so I'm sorry :D haha :)_

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**Rickii101 – **_Thanks :D I was a little worried it would be too long, you know :D but still, I'm so glad you liked it. And the handstand thing, yeah, I just thought she'd be bored you know xD Haha, thank you so much :D_

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_Chapter Five – The Cellmate_

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"I'll kill him!" Lincoln roared, slamming himself against the fence. I agreed, but apparently me versus Abruzzi's men wasn't a very good match. I kicked the fence too, and watched Michael struggle to walk properly without hobbling or limping. I grit my teeth and carried on as a guard was keeping a close eye on us.

"Everything alright there Robins?" he asked with a glare.

"Sure thing, Lincoln just stood on a worm and I got a little mad at him, no worries," I smiled politely. He rolled his eyes, but took my terribly lame excuse. Michael was busy trying to calm Lincoln down. When I turned back around after making excuses to the guards, Michael was informing Lincoln on the test we'd set up for Sucre.

I personally thought Sucre was fine, but in here you just can't go by looks. You have to get deeper, and even if Sucre's intelligence didn't match Michael's at all, there was always one way he could destroy us and ruin the entire plan. Telling the guards.

* * *

Killers are incapable of feeling. Although I can agree that not all are the same, most have no feelings whatsoever, apart from the odd feeling of fear, which doesn't come close to what a real non-killer would feel. I felt fear. I felt love, hate, anger, happiness. That makes me more human than them, doesn't it? I hoped it did.

Lincoln stood beside me a darker blue suit that showed we were in Abruzzi's P.I. I even enjoyed flashing the badge at the guards as I swaggered into the changing rooms. He flicked a paintbrush at me, which I barely caught and he laughed at my terrible non-existent skills.

"Shut up Linc, it's not that easy," I giggled and Michael smiled a little. He turned and began hiding the 'phone' in some cloth and putting it away. Sucre's mouth dropped and he quickly began looking for guards. I glanced at Lincoln who seemed to be glaring a little at Sucre. Sucre was someone Lincoln didn't trust.

Michael watched us and turned back to Sucre. The plan was set into motion.

* * *

As I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling I vaguely heard the sound of a cell door sliding open. It wasn't mine, I hoped. Instead it was Michael's. It had been a few days since the whole plan had been thought of and put into motion, and as I watched Sucre stomp past I knew it had failed. I sighed and lay back on the bed.

"Oi, Robins, wake up would ya? We got you a friend, just like Scofield."

"You can't give me a male cellmate, Bellick…that was one of the deals made at the start of my sentence."

"This guy won't hurt ya Robins, if that's what you're afraid of. Are you gonna get up or not?"

I thought about it for a moment before lazily jumping off the top bunk and strolling towards the cell door. Stood in front of me was a boy around my size, if not a few inches taller. He was scrawny and nervous, almost sweating. I suppose the catcalls he had received on his way in had scared him. Then his expression changed and it actually freaked me out how fast it had changed.

Now his eyebrows drew together and he had the ghost of a smile on his pale face. He was almost as pale as I was, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets before stepping inside. As the door closed behind him, I saw the smile on Bellick's face. Then the boy cocked his head to the side and studied me.

"Emilie Robins. Done for imperfect self-defence, am I right?" he said quietly.

"Oh of course. Pleasure to meet you kiddo, what's your name?"

"Just call me Arthur."

I snorted. "Sure thing Arty. So what is a young man such as yourself in prison for?"

His expression changed again and he frowned. "Robbed a shop and got caught. I learned my lesson though."

"Yeah, don't get caught right?" I smirked.

He rolled his eyes. "Never do it again. Stay on the right road."

"Okay spoilsport, I can see you're no fun."

I turned and flicked open and began reading the only thing I had to do in here, a magazine. Arthur looked over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow. Plain and simple, he was rather boring. He sat on his bed and stared at the wall. He didn't even do handstands!

* * *

It appeared Michael had an equally annoying cell mate. Haywire. A man with so many mental problems that required so many drugs he was always staring into space with a very lost look on his face. When he caught your eye, he seemed to freeze up. He hates eye contact.

Arthur would sit in the yard, all alone and stare at me. Not in the way other prisons did, with some sick lusty look, but with a look that said 'I'm going to catch you out.'

I made a plan to tell Michael and Tancredi about me first, since I didn't trust how Arthur would continuously ask me to tell him about how I got here. He said he'd begin to ask other prisoners, and I'd rather not have them all asking if they got curious. So if I told Michael and Sara, at least they'd know and could make up some lie when he asked.

Imperfect self-defence, _in my case_, meant I killed someone without actually meaning to but still got flung in here because I refused to talk to anyone about it and this was 'therapy'. So far so good.

In my next meeting, I asked Tancredi to get permission to have Michael beside me when I told them how I got here and she granted it.

As he sat beside me I wondered if Arthur really did know the details, or if he was just messing with me. I didn't trust him anyway.

"Do you need me or Lincoln to talk with him? Just to tell him to back off a little with all the questions" Michael asked in the meeting with Sara. She shifted in her seat, believing Michael meant talk as in punch him until he was in a coma. Perhaps that is what he meant.

I laughed. "Of course not. Arthur is harmless – for now, but I think I'll talk to him myself later."

"So Emilie, would you like to talk about how you got here?"

"Oh yeah, imperfect self defence. I was walking home and a man ran past and tried to mug a woman who was in front of me. I helped, and shoving him and punching. He fells backwards and hit his head against the wall and died. The woman thought I was a part of it or something..," I trailed off and Michael held my hand anyway. I smiled gratefully and Sara's smile never vanished. She was so happy that we had made 'progress' after three weeks of pure silence.

* * *

My story, was of course more detailed than that. Michael knew the details which I didn't want to talk about. I walked into my cell and let the guard take off the chains. Arthur was sitting on the bottom bunk, staring at me. Michael had his own problems with Haywire that he was trying to figure out. Henry Pope said he couldn't move Haywire from Michael's cell unless Haywire did something inappropriate or attacked poor Mike.

From the look on Arthur's face, he had done something. Or was thinking about it. It was slightly guilty, but he was reassuring himself. I took in his body language, seeing how he was continuously tapping his foot and avoiding eye contact with me.

"What did you do?" I asked, malice laced through my voice. I didn't want to hurt Arthur, but protecting the plan was more important now. We had to stop anyone from finding out and so I acted like Lincoln did when he was mad. Though I hated being mean to poor Arty. I copied his posture, the way he loomed over everyone when he was mad, even if Arty was taller than me by a few inches. I couldn't quite get the vein popping out, but from the look on Arthur's face I was succeeding in scaring him a little.

"I-I only…Bellick came when you were gone and-…"

"And what?"

"Snitch-…" he started, beginning to sweat. That one word told me everything I needed to know and sped up this little interrogation.

I gripped this throat, pulling him off the bed and throwing him against the concrete wall. He choked a little, and I reminded myself to keep looking like I was as mad as Lincoln could get.

"You know what would happen to a snitch in here, don't you Arty? So I'm not as strong as some inmates in here, but I've made a few friends and can handle myself," I hissed into his ear. "I won't like it if I find out you're snitching and telling my friend Bellick about what's been going on around here. So if he comes knocking again, which you and I both know he will, you better say you've seen and heard nothing, right?"

He nodded quickly, a bead of sweat running down his temple as his eyes widened in fear. "Y-Yeah Emilie…"

I let him go and smiled brightly. "Thanks Arty! I knew we'd get on great. Hey, listen, can you do handstands?"

* * *

It turned out Arty had his own friends. I found this out soon enough that my little roommate had joined a gang of sorts. Not T-Bag's…I could handle T-Bag for now. No, he had joined Barron's and walked with one hell of a swagger now.

We had P.I today, and I walked along the hallway with him. We'd separate at the end of the hall, and he'd go with Bellick to the yard for an hour while we continued to go to P.I. I knew that he had joined a gang from the marking on his shoulder. Whenever it got hot he wore a white top with no sleeves, and on his shoulder there was a mark was a long cut from a knife, marking him for life.

He also wore no t-shirts to show other rivals that he was part of this gang. Poor Arty seemed to believe this meant no one would harm him. It meant the exact opposite. He walked into my – I mean, _our_ cell with a large bruise covering his eye, not so confident now. Behind him, Barron walked in. He was mad, a vein pulsing on his forehead.

I ignored them, reading the same magazine over and over.

"Ain't you gonna apologize Robins?"

I looked at both of them, confused a little but keeping my expression neutral. "For what?"

"Hurtin' A-Man."

I snorted. "That's the best nickname you could come up with for a name like Arthur? Barron, I thought you were smarter than that. I guess not."

Arthur had the guiltiest look on his face. I was beginning to understand now. They were blaming me for something I didn't do.

"You beat A-Man up, didn't you?" Barron barked.

He grabbed me by my jumpsuit, and began punching me repeatedly. He was re-opening my not yet-healed stitches. The blood was warm, but I felt like I was falling asleep. He kicked my stomach, and I heard Michael's voice, Barron being pushed away. Michael had Barron in a headlock, yelling for some help.

As the guards filled the room, I heard Arthur babbling. "Barron hit me, h-he just needed an excuse to attack Emilie, I'm so sorry Scofield, will she be alright?"

Poor Arty really did believe he was going to safe in a gang. I heard from some prisoners who were in sick-bay that Lincoln had both considered attacking Arty. Thank God Michael kept Linc back, or else that would've gotten us all into more trouble. And that was it for Arty. He was going to be transferred. Michael visited me in sickbay, with a mark on his eyebrow. He whispered that Haywire wouldn't be a problem. Haywire had been sketching Michael's tattoo's, trying to see a pattern when Michael came in and saw them. He had begun hitting his head against the bars, and said Haywire had done it. I smiled, but I was a little afraid of Barron in a way.

Lincoln wanted to kill Barron too, not just little Arty. I'd miss Arthur though. He was going to be moved in a week.

Though the look on Sara Tancredi's face when she saw me with my stitches bust open and a large bruise on my ribcage proved Barron was becoming more of a problem.


	7. Don't I Know You?

**A/N: **_In case you're wondering why I did the three years before thing in this part, I just felt like it (: I hope you like it! :) I'll probably be doing it again in the next few chapters if I continue (: Please review! ^_^ Bill was just made up in this btw xD I had to do something! :D I hope you like it though...  
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_Chapter Six- Don't I know you?_

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I was certain I knew where I'd seen her. How couldn't I have noticed it before? I must know where, otherwise it wouldn't have popped in my mind in the first place. I sat in sickbay, alongside Michael who was filling me in on everything. He showed me his tattoo that said, "Cute Poison" and attempted to explain it. I listened and understood it, but something was nagging at me.

When I was put onto a stretcher and wheeled out of my cell, with Arthur's guilty little face following my every move, I vaguely heard someone say, 'We'll need morphine to keep her pain-free for this one Doc', and my head being rolled to side. Sara Tancredi, my doctor, flashed a light in my eye and asked me to repeat basic things about myself.

And I did. "I'm Emilie, I don't like itchy sweaters, I like rain…"

Basic things like she had asked, I guess. But her hands, I focused on how she took such a deep breath as she filled a needle with morphine, how she seemed to look at it like it was a poison instead of something there to help me and that's when something clicked in my mind.

I had seen her before. I had to. I knew it.

* * *

**Three Years Earlier…**

"I haven't touched it since."

The group clapped, cheered and a few 'Well done Harry's' were thrown around. I smiled at the man, and his eyes seemed to widen in response. But he was so thrilled he didn't realize I wasn't even meant to be there. So I pulled out a bottle of Coca Cola and started drinking it when the next person started going on about their addiction and how they stopped.

"I feel…joy," she said. I glanced at her expression; she meant it, but her hands were nervously twisting each other around and around to help with her nerves. I looked away, not wanting to make her feel worse and then she turned to me. "Do you want to go next?"

I smiled brightly. "Oh, I'm not addicted to anything. Well, maybe I'm addicted to trouble since I always seem to get in it and maybe I like to read a little too much but other than that I-…"

"EMILIE!"

"Oh shoot."

Jess had ruined the moment. Of course, I didn't really have any addictions. I had been helping Jess with 'volunteer' work. "Helping those who can't help themselves" she told me. Jess was a devout religious person who wouldn't dare to so much as speak badly of a person. Bar me.

"Why are you in here? You're supposed to be helping to clean the recreation room!"

"This isn't the recreation room?" I asked in fake shock. She rolled her eyes.

"I apologize for my friend's rudeness. She's still getting her head around the Bible and what God wants for us all."

"Preacher!" I grinned. Her face went red, and she lunged forward to grab me. I was out of the seat in a split second, dodging her. She began to chase me surprisingly, stretching her beige skirt that went just below the knees.

I put a chair between us, and the woman who had been talking before me was smiling as if I was a five year old kid. She distracted me, and Jess took her chance. "You are in so much trouble!" she hissed in my ear as she gripped my arm.

"Time out area?"

"Exactly."

* * *

"Come on Michael, time to go."

"Bye Emilie," he said, giving a small smile and a wave. I lay back in the bed, watching Tancredi. How did she go from that, to this? Her eyes looked at me for a moment before she quickly looked away to deal with other patients.

"Oi, Robins, what happened to you?" Bill asked. Bill was a tall, dark guy who had broken his arm. He was a little violent – done for punching a man so hard the guy went into a coma.

"Nothing."

It was the best answer to give in here. Sometimes people got a little too curious for their own good and would ask way too many questions. 'Nothing' stopped them for a short time. My head was throbbing, and I kept my eyes on Sara. When she finished with Bill and the others, she sat beside, tapping needles and checking drips.

"It's cute," I commented out loud.

"What is?"

"How you went from that, to this."

"From what?" she asked, looking up at me, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't remember that group? For addicts, do you? I was that kid who Jess tried to make a devout citizen out of. Speaking of Jess, I heard she became a prostitute."

She paused, before her eyes widened. "Oh God, Emilie, that was you?" She paused for a minute. "Did that woman really become a prostitute?"

I chuckled. "Nah, she became some big shot or something. She still visits me in here, preaching like Hell. Or rather, preaching like Heaven. Bet she and the reverend would get on like a house on fire."

"Please don't tell anyone about that meeting Em, no one really knows about it."

"Sure. As long as you don't tell Michael I got sent to a time out area by a woman who's a complete psychopath sometimes."

Sara giggled. Actually _giggled. _It suited her, being so happy. _  
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"What happened to you after that meeting?"

"Oh that? Pssht, nothing much. I got into a time out, and then I got into a few…misunderstandings with Jess and we split up for a day or two, but she came back and preached to me. She came here a few days ago for visitation and I got a lecture. She's not bad, Jess. Just a little…obsessed with Religion and stuff."

"I mean how did you get in here Emilie?"

"Right. I knew what you meant, I just don't like talking about the mugging."

"Then I won't push," she finished, injecting me with yet another medicine that made me tired.

* * *

I was so knocked out I didn't hear the sirens, and the yelling of prisoners. A guard spoke into his walkie talkie, asking them to tell him about A Wing or something. I felt like someone had just filled my skull with cotton.

"Robins, you awake?"

"Yeah-huh," I murmured, shutting my eyes. "When do I go back to my cell?"

He seemed to be uncomfortable answering. "In a while."

My mouth was dry, my head sore and my body shaking but I got up anyway. "Where's Sara?"

"The Doc went to get more medicine. You just sit back there. I don't have any cuffs for you I'm afraid."

"Awh, now ain't that a shame," Bill chuckled as he sat up too. He was feeling stronger I bet. I watched the guard take a step back nervously. Bill was way over 6ft tall, and knew just how strong he was. He got up, and the guard stuttered, "Y-You just sit back there now Bill." I closed my eyes again, hoping to block everything out and fall asleep.

There was a distant beeping sound, repeating itself over and over. Someone was echoing, as if they were talking through speakers saying "A Wing has been breached." Something like that. Stupid drugs…

My legs dangled over the side as Bill viciously attacked the guard. No one seemed to notice me anyway, so I kept going. If Bill saw me walking away, he'd slice my neck open. Or worse. The hallways were confusing, and I saw double of everything. Sweating and finding it hard to breathe, I leaned against a wall.

"Robins?" a voice called.

My eye was pulled open, and a face came into focus. It was a guard.

"Now how'd you get out here? Tancredi told me you'd be too sick to stand. Guess she was wrong. Up we go," he murmured as he picked me up under my arms, using the wall as support. "Now we'll just get you-…"

His voice was cut off. I wanted him to take me back to bed, to stop Bill and his friends trashing everything and for me to just fall asleep until Michael came and woke me up. But he didn't, because he had told me to wait there while he tried to find out what was going on in sickbay.

I heard his voice yell at them, and then someone laughing and bones cracking.

"Eh man, where's Robins? I think we should have some fun with her!" Bill yelled, and his friends laughed in agreement. My head started to clear up then, the image of just how far Bill and his friends would go floating through my mind.

I got through a door, slamming it shut. "Emilie?"

Oh God, please don't be Bill…Please, don't be Bill…

"Doc?"

"Em, what's going on, how are you out here you should-…"

"Bill hurt…guard," I breathed heavily. "Guard not waking up."

I sounded like an alien in my head, and my throat burned. If you've ever had drugs in your body designed to make you sleepy you'll know the feeling. It's so hard to even move because you have no energy at all.

"You go, I'll find…Mike…and Linc," I told her.

"I can't leave you like this. Plus Michael mentioned he had to go do something about toxic mould…"

That boy is one hell of a liar. And she fell for it.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm meant to be on it too but…as you can…see, I'm not…very healthy…but if you go…get your dad," I said, noticing her stiffen at the mere mention of her father. "Then you get…help for me, and…Michael and…Lincoln…. If you stay here, then I am…obliged to protect you, right? So…go and.."

"I can't Em I-…" she babbled.

"Go! Please," I begged. She looked reluctant, but left to get help anyway. Toxic mould? Really?

I found a stair well, and saw prisoners running past. Some of them ran down the stairs, pushing me into the wall without a care in the world. They were too busy with the whole 'riot' thing. Some were even covered in toilet paper and didn't seem to notice me climbing some stairs as if it were a mountain.

I stopped for a minute, catching my breath. My vision was better, albeit a little sketchy. Then I caught myself and straightened up. A group of T-Bag's friends ran past, so I followed the direction they came from.

"Emilie?"

How come everyone seems to see me before I see them?

"Emilie, what happened to you? Who did it? I'll kill them too," they said. Oh look, it's Lincoln.

"Lincoln you can't just-..."

"Shut it Bob, she's a very good friend of mine and she's hurt. I don't care about protocol."

"Hi Linc," I smiled weakly. "I'm looking for…Michael."

"Funny, so am I," he said, pulling me towards an officer who looked baffled. "Em, who did this?"

"Did wha…? Oh, you mean all the marks?" I laughed. "These are from Barron. I'm just a little tired from all the morphine Tancredi's…been pumping into me…"

"This is Bob," Lincoln told me, putting a hand on my back to keep me standing. "He can get you back to sickbay."

"Why would I…go back there, I'd probably get killed by Bill and his men!" I hissed as pain tore up my side. Lincoln gripped tighter to make me stay standing, to make me stay awake. He sighed.

"Where did you last see my brother?" he asked.

"He left sickbay hours ago and I fell asleep, that was it. Our cell, there's a riot, isn't there?"

He nodded solemnly. Lincoln turned and took my arm, ignoring his own cuffs. "This way, we'll-…"

"Well looky who we got here boys! Fish's brother and one hot little lady to play with!"


	8. The Prodigy

**A/N: **_Such quick updates! I love to write, so yeah, yet another chapter. Sorry about that! xD Hope you like it…_

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_Chapter Seven – The Prodigy _

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_I'm certain that in another life, I'd be the happy, cute little prodigy that everyone wanted me to be. Perhaps I'd have been married, with kids, and a husband who could breathe easy without guards watching his every move. Though that sounds rather ungrateful, I don't mean for it to sound like that. I mean that if I had chosen to…be 'normal' I guess, than that's probably how life would've went on.

But it didn't. I wasn't normal, but I will be the happy prodigy they wanted me to be eventually. I hope. A lawyer, doctor, anything. I could've been anything, as long as it was something respectable. Imagine, me, Emilie Robins sitting in an office wearing a real nice suit that cost the exact same amount as a brand new Ferrari. Well. Slightly over the top but still.

When your head feels like cotton, it's small things that run through your mind because the big things hurt your head even more. What would I have named my kids if I didn't get sent here? Would I have two boys, or two girls, or a boy and a girl, or twins, maybe? I'm still young.

He was staring at me. All of me, eyes roaming. He knew what he wanted, that much was for sure. He was sweating. Michael mentioned something about the air-conditioning there, but I didn't think much of it. My skin was burning, an effect of the drugs, maybe? It felt like ants were crawling up and down my skin, biting at me, gnawing at me and chewing at me.

Lincoln took a brave step forward, challenging them. His cuffs were gone. This all looked like it was happening too slowly for me. Like they were in fast-forward and I was in reverse. T-Bag nodded in my direction and they all looked at me.

"Those drugs got her real tired, right? She wouldn't even know if uh," he said, scratching his ear a little while smirking, "if someone was to get a little too friendly with her if you know what I mean…"

Lincoln told him to take a step back, and T-Bag's friends went crazy before he silenced them. Lincoln stood up to T-Bag's friends and they got into a fight. I was picked up by my shoulders, a blurry. It was a man, and he had a very sick grin on his until Lincoln pulled him away. He could fight all of them at once? Impressive. Now I feel even lazier. As soon as I wake up properly and focus, I'm going to lift weights.

You don't even need to see my expression to know I'm lying.

I was sliding down the wall again when T-Bag held me up, pulling me away from Lincoln.

"Emilie!" he screamed. "Emilie!"

Then it stopped. We were in an even louder place, tissue on the floor and people running past. A few people were scattered on the floor, and a couple of guards who twitched, which at least told me they were alive but the image was blurred. Sound was messy too, like how T-Bag would say something and I felt like I heard it three times, repeated over and over. Or how he'd talk and I'd hear what he said ten minutes later.

There was a man next to me, and he seemed to be in as much confusion as I was. People were cheering, I was lifted and they were told they'd have their 'turn' after someone else. I was dragged to Mike's cell, before T-Bag left and brought someone else in. I felt a little bit of fear, if I'm honest, but the drugs made me so sleepy I couldn't even begin to grasp how much danger I could be in.

I'm gonna have to do a billion handstands to take my mind off of this later. T-Bag gripped my jump suit by my collar and pushed me towards the toilet. When it moved, he gasped.

"T-They…they're tryin' to escape," someone hissed. It was T-Bag. He took a step away from me. "Hey, they're tryin' to-…"

He was silenced. Abruzzi was there, hissing at him.

Would my life have changed if my personality wasn't so 'frustrating' as Jess would tell me? I was weird, in her opinion. A burden, but a 'funny burden'. I cheered her up when she was down she said. Now look at me. Almost stoned out of my brain in a prison with a pervert, a guy from the Mafia, and a man who had done nothing wrong, poor Bob. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

The moment was a little longer than I thought, because when I woke up Michael was wiping my face, telling me it was alright. He smiled at me, and lightly kissed my forehead, leaning against it. Maybe he thought I was too out of it to remember that, but I did.

When I woke up next, I heard someone running. "Michael? Michael! Has anyone seen Emilie or Michael?"

I was on the bed, leaning against Bob. I don't remember being moved. "I'm so sorry," I murmured into his shoulder weakly. "You're not…meant to be in…here…"

"It's…uh, it's okay."

He was so nervous.

Lincoln burst in. His eyes scanned the room. His eyes landed on Bob, and he growled. Imagine his face when he saw me with blood running down my top that I don't remember having before. His nostrils flared and he shoved T-Bag against a wall.

"Linc, where's Michael?" I asked. My head felt so much better, and I could see relatively clearly. Lincoln's shirt had blood on it. I focused on it, hoping the bright red colour would keep me awake. I wanted to find Michael, I needed to know he was alright. I stood a little shakily, and wobbled, holding onto Sucre. Lincoln pushed him out of the cell, and I had only the wall to lean against. I got out of the cell, ignoring their argument.

I made my way down the stairs, eyes blurring too. Everyone was sweating from the heat - the whole reason the riot began I think, but I felt like I was frozen with the cold. They pushed past me, and I knew that they were feeling like it was 100 degrees in there, but I felt cold.

I bumped into a guy, who had been staring up around him.

"Michael!" I heard a voice yell. Lincoln shoved his way down the stairs, and the guy was hugging him. Michael? I squinted. It was him!

"Thanks for the little forehead kiss," I snickered, and he laughed, ruffling my hair and called me 'soft'. We made our way back to the cell, and Michael argued with T-Bag. When T-Bag pushed him, Lincoln shoved T-Bag back. I sighed, running a hand through my fringe and keeping it there for a minute.

"Get out!" Michael yelled.

I realized it was Bob they were talking about. Innocent, sweet Bob who really hadn't done anything but see the hole. I took his hand and led him out with Lincoln following.

"Please don't tell anyone Bob," I begged. His eyes looked so traumatized. Abruzzi threatened him too, saying we knew where he lived. He glanced at me, and yet again I felt that urge to say I wasn't weak, but for the past few hours I'd been so unconscious and unhelpful he probably believed I was! So I pushed him along as guards yelled at us, saying it was a 'final warning'.

I turned, and hoped Bob had a good day tomorrow, 'cause today had been pretty shit for him. It wasn't my favourite day either but still.

T-Bag passed me, pushing his way past, and I watched him carefully. He stabbed Bob, and I grabbed T-Bag's shoulders, yelling and trying to pull him away in time to save Bob. It was too late, Bob had been pushed over the edge. I screamed, watching. T-Bag shoved me away.

"Don't look so innocent Lady. He had to die. He knew too much. Don't pretend like he wouldn't tell 'em about it," he muttered, shoving me away from him. I fell back against the wall, eyes wide open and stinging with tears. A man in an orange suit pulled me up, asking what cell I was in. I told him, and he shoved me inside before the doors shut.

I couldn't get Bob's scared eyes out of my mind. I didn't sleep that night, or for the next few nights. We were on lockdown.

* * *

The worst thing happened a few days later. Bellick hadn't been there to take me to Doc's, so another guard called Perry took me to wait in a hall outside Pope's room. I asked why Perry himself didn't take me, but he said something about having more important things to do today.

"Fine, I'm not good enough for you anymore," I fake cried. He sighed and shook his head.

"A kid like you getting locked up in here…" he sighed. "Just ain't right."

"Tell the Judge that."

He chuckled and left, with me cuffed to the chair. It was a dark maroon kind of red, and wooden. Honestly I could pick it up and run around but I waited.

"Just wait out here ma'am."

That was Bellick's voice. A woman walked out, her eyes filled with tears. She sniffled, and spotted me. Taking a seat next to me, she eyed my blue suit but didn't change seats or anything. Then she saw the marks. I had a dark blue ring around my eye, but it was fading. I had stitches on my eyebrow, stopping just above my actual eye. My lip looked sore on the left, but it was okay. She should see my ribs. I'm lucky they didn't get broken.

"The riot," she whispered.

"Mmm, some inmates' idea of a party," I shrugged.

"You…You're R-Robins, right?"

"Emilie J, that's right. Do I know you?"

She smiled sadly. "No, no, I just remember Bob saying what a shame it was that they put such a bright little girl in here with those savages."

I stiffened, but continued. "They're not all savages. Bob thought that too, I think."

"You knew him?"

"Yeah, a little. I was put on morphine for all of these," I said, motioning towards the wounds. "And got out of sickbay when the riot started. A prisoner I know was being a bitch- I mean, bad, and it just got worse from there, know what I mean? It's fine though, Bob was there."

"Were you there when he…?" she trailed off, sobbing. I rubbed her wrist a little, since I couldn't do much else with the cuffs.

"Uh yeah, I was. The prisoner who had brought me to the cell in the first place left and when I walked out," I murmured, twisting it a little because if I said something wrong and got T-Bag in trouble, he might just talk, "and he was there…"

She stood and ran out. That was the horrible part, how guilty I felt for not being there in time. I sat there, feeling like the worthless con that I was. I was brought to Sara, and for once I just told her everything about Bob. How sad I'd been about Bob, how I didn't sleep much lately. It had been nearly four days, I was just so tired.

She promised I'd feel better. And she listened, and at the end of it all, I felt only a little bit better. It wasn't enough to help me sleep that night though.


	9. Seth

**A/N: **_Sorry for the late update, but here you go! :D Should I make a whole season 2 of this? I don't know yet…Sara is a big part of it. Which would have to change everything. So we'll see :D P.S, only a tiny bit of cursing here. The word bitch isn't that bad a curse word, I think xD  
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**Chapter Eight – Seth  
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Throughout my life, I've been in trouble. Whether it involved the police or not is irrelevant. I could always get out of trouble. Jess said I had a knack for getting out of bad things. I got out of fights by confusing people, and it was always Jess being the perfect citizen who tried to get me out of it too.

Sometimes I looked for trouble, just to see how far I could push it. I always got out of it. I hadn't been very worried when the Judge said I was going to Fox Rivers for five years. I should have been. That night before they sent me here, I had to sleep in a cell. The woman next to me was bawling her eyes out, sobbing and rocking back and forth.

"I can't…I can't go to prison, my little girl…she'll never know who I am and…"

I had to listen to her all night, and at the time I just kept thinking, "If you have a kid, why did you do it?" But now I understand that some people in here did it so they can feed their kids, or they didn't have enough money. Some just did it. They didn't think about it. I feel bad for that woman now, even if I don't know what crime she committed.

I almost tripped, waking me up from my daydream. I had been carrying a plastic bag of heavy white towels, along with the others in P.I. I started laughing at myself, mainly because I'd dropped the towels out of fright.

"Are you okay Emilie?" Michael asked. I almost blushed. Almost. But I am a master at body language.

"Of course Mikey, don't worry about it. I just wish a strong, strapping hero would come and help me out."

He chuckled and grabbed the bag for me.

"Look at that, there was a hero waiting for me after all," I smiled. My stomach was doing flips inside though.

"I guess so."

I took the bag back and playfully shoved him before walking towards the others. They were standing, staring at a sign saying 'No inmates beyond this point'. A _challenge_, is it?

Sucre walked behind me and kept lookout. I stomped forward and went to pull the door open. A guard opened it, pointing a large gun at us.

"Whoa, isn't that rather dramatic? Are you hiding the president in there or something?" I asked, glancing behind him and standing on my tippy-toes.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

"Clean up," Michael answered quickly, eyeing the gun and pulling me back a little. "Thought this was storage."

"Does this look like storage?"

"I really wouldn't know, your gun is rather distracting," I murmured.

"Back it up," he ordered.

We did as he asked, but I made a point to stick my tongue out at him. Stupid guards, always ruining our breakout plans. I bet they do this for fun. So off we went, tails between our legs.

Sucre kicked a bucket when we walked back into the room with all the tools in it. I sat on the table and swung my legs back and forth. Michael stood beside me, his eyes narrowed.

"A break room, are you kidding me?" Sucre cursed angrily.

"What do they need a break from, they do nothing?" I wondered. They didn't enjoy humour, I suppose.

I tuned out, my mind wandering to the small kiss Michael had given me. I'm the first to admit it gave me butterflies, and found myself staring at him as he spoke about that damn pipe. Our way out. I didn't even stop the dreamy look in my eyes when he caught me looking. I snapped out of it when I realized they were all talking about Westmoreland.

The poor guy's record was spotless. Michael was quickly forming his plan. I suppose it could work. I just hoped nothing bad would happen to the old man.

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"It's only illegal in ten states, so if you're careful-…" I babbled to Perry as he brought me from my cell to see the Doctor for our meetings.

"Keep the conversation clean Robins, I don't wanna know," Perry muttered, pulling me along. "Here she is Doctor Tancredi. You want me to stay?"

"That won't be necessary, thank you."

He shrugged and pushed me towards the table in Sara's office. I took my seat, happily watching her checking files and needles. I watched her gaze linger on the morphine, and decided to distract her.

"When I was six, I learned that the body's natural reaction to a chemical like-…"

"Emilie, there's no need to try to distract me," she chuckled.

"How did you figure that out?" I smiled.

"You never talk in these meetings. The moment I look at morphine, you suddenly start on how chemicals react in the body. I don't think it's hard to guess. It has nothing to do with what we normally talk about. Or, what I talk about and you sit there listening to, when it's supposed to be the other way around," she sighed.

"What, a female prisoner can't know the natural reactions of the body to chemicals?"

Sara smiled anyway. "So," she began, sitting on a stool in front of me and clasping her hands together. "How are you and Michael?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest?"

She straightened up too, suddenly aware of how interested she had sounded without meaning to. "I just noticed how you two act like you've been together forever."

"Oh wow thanks, you're making me blush."

"Do you watch people's reactions as much now?"

I was watching her now, actually. Her body language was strange. She was acting distant, yet her tone was meant to sound like we were best friends, and I could tell she was desperate for me to keep talking. This was the most I'd talked in her meetings.

"I…do. I do trust more people in here than I did outside."

She scribbled something down on her notepad and nodded. "Like who?"

I shrugged. "Michael is the most obvious. Lincoln. I trust Abruzzi which is kind of weird after what he did to Michael," I told her, clenching my fist at the thought of it. She noticed and scribbled that down too. "But Michael says we have to trust him. I like Westmoreland. I don't trust Theodore at all though."

"Theodore? You mean T-Bag, uh Theodore Bagwell?" she asked, clearing her throat as she said his nickname.

"Yes, but he doesn't like being called by his real name."

"You aim to annoy him then?" she smiled.

"I aim to please," I smiled back, and stayed quiet for the rest of the meeting.

* * *

Seth was Theodore's new 'friend'. Or bitch, as they called them here. He had been with T-Bag for a long time now. I felt horrible for him. Imagine being Theodore's bitch. That must be the lowest of the low, since Theodore himself is a monster.

I noticed that whenever my cell was closed, Seth would take the time to stare over as if he was begging me to help. I could imagine it, punching Theodore and heroically carrying Seth to safety. If only I was strong. I'm constantly made fun of here for being a 'weak woman', or something like that. I didn't take it seriously though.

Everyone is made fun of in here for something. Michael's called Pretty because of his good looks. Though I don't think people would call Lincoln mean names in here. They probably did, just not to his face. I was used to being called weak in here, but I knew most of the people in here had respect for me because I'd proven my intelligence in one way or another.

Except for when I played cards with a group of men the other day and lost, which cost them all to laugh and make fun of me, but I didn't mind. I didn't know how to play poker, but I'll learn somehow. I was thinking more about the poker now, because I couldn't stand the feeling of Seth looking over at me with this depressed look on his face.

The next day, as he passed me a man shoved him. I knew nothing about this man. We had been heading to the cafeteria, and out of pure chance Seth had been beside me. When the man shoved him, he did nothing to stop him. My blood began to boil. How dare this guy just push this kid around. He's a lot bigger than him!

This man was also a lot bigger than me, but it didn't stop me turning around and hitting his shoulder. The guards hadn't been looking.

"Why did you push him?" I asked.

He looked me up and down, and laughed. "Get back in line Lady, it's none of your business." He gave me a push then, and I almost fell back into the men behind me. I growled at how much of an idiot this guy was, and my arm pulled back. I clenched my fist and grit my teeth together, thinking of punching him, but let it go.

Seth's eyes were wide, and I realized then that this probably never happened to him. A person helping him in this place, I mean. It seemed to happen when Theodore wasn't around. When he was, no one bothered to bully poor Seth, but I could see Seth was slowly cracking from the pressure.

I had picked up my lunch and thanked the lady who made it.

"No problem for a cutie like you!" she smiled brightly, before giving the next prisoner his lunch. He grunted in response. She liked me, I could tell. Her body language told me, and plus the smile on her face when I turned up in the cafeteria was pretty obvious if I hadn't guessed already. Michael smiled at me, and Sucre motioned for me to sit with them, but I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Seth was alone.

So I shrugged and walked to sit with him. Michael's eyebrows drew together in confusion, but I believe he knew about Seth and Theodore. Seth's mouth dropped open from a little shock, and a few men around us nudged each other.

"Why excuse me Lady, you're in my seat," a voice drawled.

"Your name isn't on it Theodore."

"Shouldn't you be sitting over there with Pretty?" he asked darkly, putting a hand on my shoulder. I noticed Michael tense and stand to walk over but I shook my head. Seth would never learn how to help himself if I didn't do something now.

"Is there a law in here or something that I am not aware of?"

"Now is it something to do with my boy here?" he asked as he slid into the seat beside us. Seth shifted away from him nervously. I slowly took a bite of the food in front of me, chewing and swallowing before turning to look at him. He had been watching me the whole time like a vulture.

"Does it matter?…" I murmured.

"You're just answering a question with a question," he noted.

"And you're failing to realize how much I don't care."

"If you don't care, go sit over there."

"You show such respectful hospitality Theodore."

He almost shuddered at the name. "You better watch yourself Lady."

"You do enough of that for me, don't you Theodore? Watch me."

There was a chorus of 'oooh's' around us, coming from the men. It just added fuel to Theodore's suppressed anger. Theodore licked his lips and shifted like Seth had done, only closer to me.

"Like I said, Lady, watch yourself."

When he had left, we sat in silence until both Seth and I had finished out meal.

As I stood and turned to leave, I heard him in the tiniest whisper in the saddest voice say, "Thank you." If Theodore actually did anything to me, I suppose now it would be worth it, just to give Seth a little bit of hope.


	10. Help

**A/N:**_**So, so, so sorry about the late update! But here you go, three **__New chapters! :D Yay! :D :) _

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**Chapter Nine – Help**

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Seth was slowly opening up to me. He refused to tell me why he was in here, or why he had joined Theodore. Theodore himself was keeping tight-lipped, always near Seth whenever I spoke to him. Like now, as we sat on the chairs over a game of chess. I had no idea how to play, and was mindlessly moving the pawns around to his amusement.

He suddenly went quiet, his eyes roaming around the yard. His gaze settled on Theodore, who made a motion of slitting his own throat towards Seth as a warning not to talk about anything too serious with me. He turned back and nervously moved the pawn with a horse for a head. I knocked it over and turned the game into Star Wars, using a light saber and claiming 'Luke, I am your father!'

Seth smiled, but his eyes were haunted with Theodore's threat. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, looking around the yard myself. P.I was soon, I knew that. Michael and Lincoln were staring over at us, and I waved at them, smiling brightly. They did wave back, but they weren't as happy. This place was just full of depression, and it was starting to get to me.

"Emilie," Seth said suddenly. My head actually whipped around the sound of his nervous and sad voice. "Can you help me?"

"Help you?" I asked, unsure. "What, with chess? I'm shit at chess Seth, you could've guessed by how I used Star Wars to distract you. I don't even watch Star Wars. I suppose I should start."

"No," he said. "I mean, with T-Bag. Theodore, or whatever you call him..."

I shifted nervously. I'm so bad at serious conversations about Theodore, such as this. "Oh Seth…I'll always help to keep Theodore at bay-…"

He suddenly knocked over the chess set, ruining my Star Wars game, his face a light red. "But see you can't help Emilie! The minute the cell doors are closed, that's it. You can't help, you see."

I didn't have an answer. I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away from Seth. I turned to face Michael.

"Come on Em. Time for P.I." He glanced at Seth, who had tears at the corner of his eyes. I had tears in mine too, and they escaped as Mike led me away. Theodore swooped and quickly joined Seth, probably asking him what I had said. He then followed after us quickly, desperate not to miss any time in P.I. But Seth was right. The moment the cell doors closed, I could do nothing.

* * *

I held Michael's hand. Tracing the lines on his, matching his with mine.

"Are you trying to read my palm?" he asked quietly beside me. We sat in the room where we were trying to get to the pipe, sitting on the ground and leaning against the wall.

"Mmm," I murmured, looking at him for a second. "I'm quite good at it, actually."

"Read mine then," he said.

I traced the lines, actually trying to remember which line meant what. Was it the long one for your life, or kids or something? Let's go with life. I smiled and told him he'd have a long life.

"Who'll be in it?" he chuckled.

"I will. And Linc. And LJ. Perhaps Seth," I said hopefully.

Michael sighed and put an arm around my shoulder. "Em, we can't take him with us. There's too many people as it is. We can never make it over with so many."

He was right, and we glanced around the room at each person. C-Note and Theodore were having yet another racial argument, and Linc stepped in to break it up. Abruzzi just carried on with Westmoreland. Tears stung at my eyes again, just thinking about when we left. How Bellick will enter Seth's cell and say, 'Your roomie T-Bag is gone there boy.' Seth will wonder who else went, and when he finds out I left him, he'll just be heartbroken.

"Emilie, listen, today in the showers Seth-…" Michael began.

"Bellick is coming!" Sucre said, bursting in. We got up and quickly hid the hole just before he entered.

"Okay ladies," Bellick barked, then glanced at me. "_And _Emilie," he chuckled smugly. "Clean up. Time to head back to your cells."

I got up, and Michael said he'd tell me later. It mustn't be so important. I hoped.

* * *

My maternal instinct was on overdrive as we walked back to our cells. We said goodbye to Lincoln, but I wasn't allowed to hug him because they assumed I'd pop some drugs into his pockets or something horrible and criminal like that. Something a newly-convicted con would never dream of doing, surely.

Michael and Sucre walked in front of me, and Theodore slid up beside me, an evil grin on his face.

"You and Seth are getting quite friendly. He hasn't said uh," he began, wiping his nose with the back of his hand – he had a habit of doing that. He did it when he was lying sometimes too. "…said anything to you, has he now Lady?"

"Hm," I murmured softly, "only of your plans for world domination. But other than that, no. I can't say that he has Theodore."

"Why do you keep calling me Theodore? It's T-Bag, beautiful," he grinned. I rolled my eyes.

"Theodore makes you sound like a decent man. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, and you ruined that. So this is the closest thing to decent you can be, Theodore," I said, going all righteous and responsible. I laughed as he frowned a little, and slapped him gently on the side of his skull. I watched Michael and Sucre keep walking, and stopped. Theodore stopped to, and I gripped his shirt before pushing him against the wall. He had this sick smirk on his grin. "You listen to me Theodore," I growled.

"I'm all ears Lady. Is this the part where you leave Pretty for me?"

"Don't be stupid. You better not hurt Seth, Theodore or I'll-…"

"You'll what? Get ole Pretty over there to beat me up? Maybe you'll get Abruzzi, you trust him right? Heck, you might as well throw Lincoln and Sucre in, get a whole party goin'! Though Westmoreland mightn't be gettin' an invitation, because he is of the elderly, and that would be ridiculous," he grinned. I let him go.

"Please, Theodore. I don't need them to beat you up. That will never work. Just stop making him feel so bad. Leave him go from that group of yours. For once in your life, do something right."

He scowled. "I ain't doin' nothing to the kid. He's just being dramatic."

I let my anger go and shoved Theodore, causing him to fall back against the wall. I turned and followed Michael and Sucre. The shove wasn't serious. I knew that because he got straight back up and followed me, laughing his head off.

"For such a pretty lady you gotta good push," he chuckled, slapping me on the back. It was his way of saying that he'll either get me back, or he'll forget about it.

I turned with a small smile noticing he was rubbing his elbow in something like pain, before turning back to see Sucre and Michael rooted to the spot. Their eyes were wide, and I turned to see what everyone was freaked out about. Did someone get into a fight again? Perhaps tried to start a riot?

But it was way worse than that. There, hanging by a noose made of sheets was my Seth. The kid I'd tried to help and failed. I actually screamed, and Michael held my hand. No one was helping to take him down, not until the guards were rushing forward and Tancredi was called. She passed me, putting a hand on my shoulder for a split second, but that did nothing to stop the one thing rushing through my mind.

I had failed Seth.


	11. Freshmen

**A/N: **_Tweener's in it! ^_^ Woo hoo! :D _

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**Chapter Ten – Freshmen **

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**Sara was trying desperately to make me talk to her. She was sitting in a chair in front of me, handing me a tissue even though I wasn't crying in front of her. Not yet. I was just…staring at the floor. Then I watched her pull out my file and she sighed for the thousandth time in the past twenty minutes. I wanted to rip out Theodore's lungs and stomp on them, but that would do nothing for either of us. Well, maybe it'd help my anger, but then what?

Be locked up for another twenty years, that's what. Michael was feeling terribly guilty for Seth's death. Of course he had finally told me about the showers. About Theodore's little game of his. I had been slightly angry for a minute, but Seth probably would've committed suicide either way. There was no way Mike could've brought him with us. Though the idea of giving up my place had come to mind. I could handle five years, surely?

"Emilie," Sara said. "Listen, I was talking to Jessica Waters recently…"

I looked at her, suddenly quite mad at her. I don't know why it had just come to me, but all of my anger was directed at her.

"You weren't the only one I did research on, I found out about Michael's low latent inhibition too. Jessica told me a lot."

I knew about Michael's low latent inhibition. I knew a lot of things about him that had slowly poured out after a few hours sitting around in P.I, exhausted from trying to get to the pipe. Surprisingly, the cons were gentlemanly and offered to do the job for me…and being the lazy person that I am, I excepted. Because when I did try, they laughed at my attempts. Even Michael laughed. That's just depressing.

"What did Jess say?"

"Well, only the things she really knew. She wanted me to pass on her love," she said, smiling as if it was the sweetest thing she'd ever heard. Clearly she didn't get that much time with Jess, or she would've heard a lot of sweeter things. "She speaks of you as if you're her daughter Em."

"Yes, the daughter she's going to throw out."

"Emilie, Jess mentioned that and she explained that she just doesn't have enough time what with her job and her husband."

"Was Edna there?"

"Who?"

"Edna is Jess' really close best friend, and I have to say she's a complete bitch sometimes Doc. I think she set me up to get me in here, she hates me. And whenever I woke up and went to get breakfast, she was there in the kitchen, tutting at the mere sight of me. 'Why do you put up with that girl Jess, I'll never know! You must have the patience of a Saint!' What an annoying woman," I murmured, lying back on the bed, happy to forget the memories and guilt of Seth.

"No," Sara said, laughing. "I didn't see her actually. Jess did say you had a hatred for her friend, so I assume she means Edna."

Yes, Edna had hated me. She was a short, blonde woman with a bob and nosey eyes that constantly followed me everywhere. If she wasn't preaching with Jess, she was giving out to me.

"Why don't you cut your hair a little and stop hanging out with those horrible creatures you refer to as 'friends'?" she'd tut. Apparently my friends didn't even deserve to be in the same species as her.

I suppose my friends weren't the best influences but I'd rather them then her.

"You were a prodigy."

"Still am," I corrected, sitting back up again and running my hands through my hair. "Jess bragged about it sometimes."

Sara chuckled as she leaned back in her chair, trying the 'friendly body language' that people do. They lean back and unfold their arms, almost welcoming you in. "She said you could memorize anything, that you were top of your class and-…"

"And blah, blah, blah."

"Why does body language interest you? I mean," she said, "if you're looking at me right now, what do you think?"

"Sara, it's not just your body language. It's the way your office is too, it just tells me everything there is to know about you."

Her eyes flitted around the room before landing on me again. "My office…? Do you want to explain?"

"See that picture of you and your dad, over there?" I said, pointing at it. "Yeah, you lean your torso towards him, but your not completely willing to be close to him. There's a space in between you. It's like you're afraid. You don't trust his opinion, and you don't like what he does. It's Frank Tancredi, isn't it?"

She ignored my question about her father but pressed on body language. "Just because I didn't lean the rest of my body towards the camera, you think I don't trust him?"

She wasn't being rude, I knew that. She was curious. Everything in her expression said so, even though she was trying very hard to look like she had no emotions as she spoke to me. I was actually quite happy to tell her what I thought, because it distracted me. My mind was more focused on this, then on poor Seth.

"Well then, I'll prove it some other way. Your office is completely clean."

"It's an infirmary," she countered. She was doing her best to keep me talking yet again. "It has to be clean."

"But OCD clean, Sara? Katie is clean, but not this clean. Your desk, the files are unusually messy. You never leave your files messy."

The sound of a buzzing in her pocket made her jump, and she seemed to sigh a little under her breath. "Okay Emilie, that's it for today."

"Sure," I said, hopping up and strolling towards the door. "Oh, and Sara, I know that you and your father aren't so close also because that's the only picture you have of him. The other day, that nurse Katie took it upon herself to show me her purse. There's over fifty pictures of her family. Compare that to how little you have in here. Then again…you might just be the tidy type."

And then she smiled at me, genuinely. "I guess I am the tidy type."

* * *

My hands were stuffed into my pockets as I leaned into Michael's shoulder, watching a bus outside the fence. Some people got off and Theodore strolled up to us, and with a smile said, "Freshmen."

My whole body stiffened, knowing that he was looking for a new buddy since Seth was…gone. And he wasn't coming back any time soon. Michael glanced down at me with slightly worried eyes, but since he knew a lot about body language, he was being very careful about how he stood.

One boy was walking with a swagger, talking to the guy in front of him. My eyes narrowed and I squinted in the sunlight. He was acting tougher than he was.

Theodore was right. Freshmen.

My maternal instinct returned. Theodore was purposely walking around the freshmen, taking everything in and glancing at me, almost laughing.

"He's only doing it to annoy you Emilie," Abruzzi murmured, rubbing my shoulder. "Don't sink to his level."

That did nothing to help me. Our P.I group sat, bored, as we watched Westmoreland and Michael play chess. It wasn't that any of them were interested, we just had nothing better to do. Abruzzi hated Theodore as much as I did, and he smiled when the kid pushed Theodore away. I watched Theodore slowly. His expression, how his eyebrows drew back in surprise and his mouth opened slightly and he leaned away from this kid. He was shocked.

"Michael we have to help him," I said. They all turned to look at me then, and the game stopped.

"Help Tweener?" Sucre asked.

"Tweener?" I said. "That's his name now?"

"Nah, it's just another nickname. T-Bag told me it when the cells opened up. It's 'cause the boy doesn't seem to fit in with any race. Not mine, and not yours and no one else's," Sucre chuckled. "You'll just have to get used to it Lady. If this plan doesn't work out, you're gonna see a lot of this."

"Of T-Bag ruining someone else's life," Westmoreland said simply, moving a pawn. The pawn with a horse for it's head. When T-Bag strolled away happily from Tweener, I took my chance. He eyed me suspiciously, but kept his swagger on.

"Hey there, Tweener. I see you met Theodore," I said, almost spitting out Theodore's name.

"Theodore," he repeated. "Y'all mean that homo T-Bag?"

I actually gasped in horror, knowing that if he had called Theodore a 'homo' then his life was already over. "Oh Tweener, you didn't just call him a homo, did you?"

He looked frightened for a second, but then he nodded guiltily. "He was feelin' me up man, what was I supposed to do?"

I snorted, "Not call him a homo. What else did you say?"

"I called him a fruit cake. Wait, who are you anyway? Why'd you care what I said to that weirdo?"

I sighed, once again running a hand through my hair in frustration. At this rate it would begin to fall out. "My name is Emilie Robins. I am in here for a mugging that went quite wrong."

"_You_ tried to mug someone?" he asked. "Man you're nuttin' like the guys in here."

"Wow, really? And I thought I was this strong guy you know?" I chuckled, linking his arm a little to calm him down. "I wasn't the one to mug that lady. But I did try to stop the guy, and he hit his head and…died. Imperfect self defence I think they call it."

"What's T-Bag's problem anyway? I didn't do nuttin' to 'im and he's gettin' all up in my grill yo'!"

I smiled at how naïve he appeared to be. Perhaps I was like this when I first came in. The naivety I mean, not the 'yo!' thing. He was swaggering more now, doing the same type of body language men do when they try to attract a woman and act tough at the same time.

"Theodore is a product of incest and rape, I think that's what Bellick said. His father raped his sister or something sad like that, and nine months later Theodore came along. His life story is unimportant right now. What is important however is that he hurt a very close friend of mine and-…"

"What did he do?"

I chewed my lip, desperately wishing Michael was here right now. "There was this kid in here before you came, his name was Seth and I hung around with him and Michael a lot more than anyone else. But Theodore made it his business to make Seth his…hm, what is it they call it in here? Oh yes, his bitch. And it ended very badly. Seth committed suicide a few days ago."

"Yo' man that's rough."

"It is rough. And I don't want the same thing to happen to you. Just do what you can to survive."

"T-Bag won't try nothin' will he?"

"I can't promise anything Tweener. Theodore is very…well, I doubt fruity is the word to describe him. He's sadistic," I explained carefully, hoping I could do more for him than I did for Seth.

He nodded and I went back to Michael with a smile on my face. I hugged him and actually skipped my way over to Sucre too. "I'm going to help Tweener."

"Emilie, come here," Michael said, dragging me towards the fence. "You can't just…replace Seth with Tweener Em. There's only so much you can do to stop T-Bag."

"I'm not replacing him!"

"I know, I know you're not. But it's up to Tweener."

"Michael, please help me in helping Tweener! You saw what Theodore did to Seth. I'm not going to let that happen to Tweener."

He looked away uncomfortably. "Okay. For you I'll try my best to help Tweener."

I grinned, giving his cheek a kiss before a guard yelled at us to split up. "No funny business!"

"Yes Mr Scofield, stop trying to seduce me!"

This time, I won't let Theodore win.


	12. High School

**A/N: **_Ooooh, three new chapters! This is just to make up for not updating in aaaages. :)_

_My apologies! :D_

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**Chapter Eleven – High School**

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Prison can be a lot like high school. Except for the violent murderers, rapists, paedophiles, gangs and racial crimes committed on a daily basis. But take away all that, and focus on the yard. In the yard, you have your groups. The groups that Theodore separates into, "The Whites" "The Blacks", "This Hispanics", etc. While his are based on his racist views, I like to think of it as the Jocks, the Nerds, and the Popular's, because honestly Theodore is just an idiot. Why would I separate them into high school groups like this?

It reminds me of my high school years. So some aren't actually popular, and some aren't nerds, it just makes it easier for me to remember. Our group are the Nerds, because we just clumped together and honestly, because Michael is quite intelligent and I've been called a prodigy more than a million times. Westmoreland is smart, and C-Note is very, very good at the whole 'street cred' thing that he's always talking about. Fernando Sucre…well, he's not the smartest tool in the box, but he's very useful and a total sweetheart. Theodore isn't just smart, he's sly. He knows what he's doing. And Abruzzi, a smart man, is recently finding out that having two groups isn't easy.

C-Note's old group are slowly turning on him too. Our group the Nerds is clashing with his group, the Jocks. They're looking at him like he's a stranger now. I call C-Note's groups the Jocks because they're always working out and fighting. Tweener really wants to get into our Nerd group, but so far I can't get Michael to let up and let him in. There's just too many people in ours. For now. Well, Tweener just wants to_ get_ into a group.

Abruzzi's side is the Popular's. Now the Popular's always have a King, and poor John has been kicked out of it. In High school, the popular's regularly change, but in prison it's always been John. He's completely lost without them, you can tell. The Popular's aren't as popular as you might think. I only refer to them as the Popular's because they run everything in this prison, just like the popular's in a high school usually do among students. Or at least, that's how it was in my school.

I was searching for my own group actually. It was P.I and I had been with Sara. I jogged my way towards the pipe room, annoying the guards by grinning and waving. It made me laugh. Most of the guards here should be in anger management. Maybe they'd learn to smile while they're there.

I walked in and closed the door behind me. Michael was talking, and I looked in the direction he was glaring at. Theodore was gripping his knee on the floor, and my eyes widened. Michael held a crowbar in his hand. He hadn't…

"This ends right now," he told him. Theodore started giving out to him when he spotted me. They all looked then, and Michael nodded. "It's sorted, Emilie."

"Bellick!" Theodore screamed. Michael quickly knelt in front of him. I watched as he told him to tell Bellick if he wanted, but we all knew Theodore wouldn't dare. The smile was barely off my face when another guard – not Bellick – waltzed in and asked if we had a problem.

"Absolutely none," I answered.

"You sure about that Robins? Did anything happen?" he asked suspiciously, turning to Theodore.

Theodore and Michael were staring each other down before Theodore answered.

"No. I thought some tools were missing, that's all." The guard left, satisfied.

Michael was telling Theodore to stay away from Tweener, and I almost passed out from happiness. Like I said, this time I'd protect Tweener. Michael had said he'd do his best to help, and he had done far better than that. He had put that idiotic red-neck in his place.

And just in time, my favourite guard walked in. "Abruzzi, you and me gotta have a conversation." I eyed Bellick as he stood on the hole, the board creaking beneath his weight. That had been Sucre and Michael's idea.

"Oh, do I get to join?" I asked innocently.

"Shut it Robins," he growled, turning on his heels and walking out. Lincoln was asking why he didn't fall through, and Michael went on to show him the board.

"Time to get back to work then," Sucre winked.

"Imagine it boys," I smiled, taking the crowbar from Michael's hand. "Some day, I'll be Mrs Emilie Bellick. Has a ring to it, don't it? Honestly Michael, you're just dreaming if you think I'll stay with you when Bellick is on offer," I laughed, shoving him playfully. He only smiled and turned to get his own crowbar.

Even Theodore smirked at that one, with his familiar sick grin. Before he glared at Michael, of course.

* * *

I was sitting with Tweener when Theodore came limping along. We had been talking about boring things, and before he came we had been talking about school.

"I confused my teachers," I told him, taking in the sun.

"Confused how yo'?"

"I was smart, but I was very bad at keeping quiet during class. They couldn't understand why I got everything right in tests when I never studied and constantly messed around in class," I murmured, faking a yawn. The Jocks were staring at C-Note, the tension obvious to me. C-Note hadn't realized just how much time he was spending with us Nerds exactly.

My eyes searched the yard, watching each group go about their daily business. Tweener suddenly went quiet, like Seth had done whenever a certain weirdo walked past. Sure enough, I sat up and spotted Theodore Bagwell _limping_ past us painfully. Tweener held the basketball in his hand tightly. He glanced at me as if he needed the courage before he shrugged his shoulders.

"You trippin'…on s-something Alice?" he asked, uncertain at first.

Theodore turned, almost about to say something when he saw me, and then Michael and Sucre behind us by the fence. His mouth tightened into a straight line, all the signs of a very frustrated man crossing his features in an instant. No matter how much I try not to focus on body language sometimes, it's become a habit.

Tweener was almost sweating in fear for a second until Theodore straightened up and kept walking. Tweener jumped up, grinning, telling Theodore not to limp near him again.

"I'll see you later Tween," I smiled, skipping towards Michael and Sucre. A few of the men on the benches sighed at me, but I ignored them and threw my arms around both of them. "Revenge is sweet…yo'," I grinned, leaning against the fence and watching Tweener's swagger return.

* * *

Of course, all good things come to an end. I had learned that quite quickly in here. Abruzzi was in trouble. I hadn't realized just how much influence the Popular's possessed. While in a high school they can only do so much when it comes to students, they have to stop there. The Popular's in prison however control the guards too, and sometimes they control the people on the outside world.

This problem was that the men Abruzzi was all buddy-buddy with on the outside weren't his buddies anymore. This also meant that the money that they paid Bellick to let Abruzzi run P.I had run out. We weren't in control of P.I anymore.

He and Michael promised to get this problem sorted, and I left them to it. If they really needed me to do something, they only had to ask. I was focusing on Barron. My little violently psychotic friend hadn't forgotten me, and was quickly changing his focus from me, to the those around me. A rather smart plan for someone as stupid as Barron, don't you think?

He set his focus on Michael, Lincoln and Tweener. Word had spread throughout the prison that Michael and I were close now, which had been obvious before. Lincoln was something of an older brother, and Barron had been watching me as I sat by the fence and talked to him about LJ and life. LJ was being set up apparently, but he didn't say too much about it. He said he knows he can trust me, but he doesn't trust the prisoners around us.

Which is fair, because I had made the mistake of loudly proclaiming how much I cared about Tweener's safety. That might sound stupid to you, in a 'Why the Hell did you do that Emilie?' sort of way, but it had been by accident. I had been with Sara when Bill, the psychopath from Sick Bay had been sitting outside. Sara got her nurse friend Katie to treat him, knowing I hated the guy.

Sweet girl.

So, Tweener is blissfully unaware of the trouble he's in if Barron catches him alone. I was starting to wonder about Tweener myself, since Bellick had been visiting him more frequently when he noticed our group was getting closer to him each day. I was thinking about all of this when the Jocks whistled at me. I had my hands stuffed into my pockets, disposing of some of the rocks from the pipe room.

I had almost jumped and screeched, because I thought a guard had spotted me throwing away the rocks. The Jocks hated Barron's group. I called Barron's group the Losers. You can probably guess why.

An idea popped into my mind. The Jocks hate the Losers. You can probably guess what I was thinking too. I spun around on my heels, smiling at them.

"Why hello there amigos!"

They looked a little unsure, before they straightened up. I noticed Michael, Sucre and Lincoln's heads snap over, since I never really spoke to the other groups but ours and sometimes the Popular's.

"Hey there Lady, what brings you over here? Looking to dump Pretty over there and find yourself a real man?"

"Uh no, actually. That wasn't on my agenda, something else is. Your name is Alex, right?"

"Call me Lex sweetie," he purred, and his friends laughed, slapping his back. I wasn't going to be intimidated that easy.

"Okay Alex," I said. It made him snap out of his Alpha male, noticing that I hadn't bothered to call him Lex. "Your group, they hate Barron right?"

"You mean that fat jackass that kicked your ass? Man that shit was dope," Alex hissed. "I gotta sister, if her husband ever did that to her I'd slit his throat."

The rest of them howled in agreement. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Michael was about to walk over when I shook my head, telling him to stay back.

"That was dope," I giggled, getting their attention.

A few of them sat up from their weights, dropping the dumbbells and taking an interest when I mentioned their 'rivals'.

"And yes, him. And that actually hurt quite a bit you see," I reasoned. "I'm sure your sister is a great woman. I just need to ask you one thing, and I'll leave then."

"No one's asking you to leave hot stuff," another grinned.

Alex ignored him and smiled. "What kind of question is it Lady?"

"What has Barron been saying about Tweener?"

"That punk ass little kid?" Alex huffed, snorting. "Man. I getchu now. Barron's been saying he'll kick Tweener's ass when he catches him. I guess that's got something to do with you?"

I wasn't going to push my luck. Just because they were being nice to me now, didn't mean they'd be nice to me later if they needed a favour and I couldn't do it for them.

"Thank you Lex," I smiled. "Did he say when?"

Alex scratched his neck, happy that I used his prison nickname I guess. His Alpha male pose returned, flaunting the muscles.

"I can take care of him if that's what you're worried about Lady. Of course, you'll have to do something for me in return."

Again, his group burst out into laughter and whistles. His intentions were clear.

"No, thanks for the offer Lex. That's all I needed to know."

I walked to Lincoln, Sucre and Michael.

"Eh, eh, Lady," Sucre said, putting a hand on my shoulder to stop me walking. "What did you say to them?"

"The Jocks? I asked them a question about Tweener."

"Emilie," Michael groaned. "I told you, you've protected Tweener enough. We've done our best."

"I know we have. I just had to do one more thing, promise."

We stayed silent for a few minutes, watching the groups go by. Then suddenly, Sucre stopped leaning against the fence and stared at me.

"The Jocks?"


	13. The Liar

**A/N:**_ Update! Yay! :D Enjoy. :)_

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**Review Replies –**

**TheImmortalChaplin – **_Oh why thank you :D Poor Sucre just can't keep up these days… :D_

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**Chapter Twelve –The Liar**

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**The prison is forever changing. New guards, new prisoners... Abruzzi was King of the Popular's again, and of course his loyal subjects did everything he asked. The poor unfortunate soul that had tried to take his place was cast away, probably going to join some other group. Our group was getting too crowded.

I sat with Sara, and today I had decided to really talk to her. She had spent so long trying to make me open up, spent so long doing her best to learn more about me and body language that it only seemed fair. Yet my good intentions were ruined from the moment I entered her office.

For it wasn't her sitting there; it was Katie, her nurse friend. Sara wasn't in today, but I couldn't figure out why. Katie is an extremely bubbly person, everything about her screams 'friendly!' She happily chatted away to me, mostly focusing on her family.

Michael entered as she asked a question about family. I shrugged.

"My brother and I are her new family," he chuckled. Katie jumped, not seeing him.

"Oh Michael, I'll get your insulin ready in time for you to see your wife."

My jaw dropped. Have you ever felt humiliation? It's just embarrassment that burns at you, really. Though Katie probably didn't know that I loved Michael, she could probably have guessed by my expression. I stared at him, and he cast his eyes to the floor.

A wife…I'd never been 'cheated' on before, because Michael was the first. I'd never cheated on anyone either, or even considered it.

"Okay Em, you're good to go. Sit there Michael."

Katie turned around, quickly tapping needles and picking up medical files. I passed Michael, not bothering to look at the lying, cheating idiotic little-

"Emilie, it's not what you're thinking," he said, putting his cheating hand on my elbow to stop me.

"You don't even know what I'm thinking," I growled, taking it back and walking away from him. "I doubt you'd like it if you did."

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Visitors are life-lines in prison. I don't usually get visitors, apart from the odd time Jess got up here. Even Lincoln's son LJ had visited me before, much to his mother's displeasure. I think she thought I was a bad influence. I couldn't think why, I'm only a criminal in a maximum security prison. Why harm could I do, really?

Lincoln's visitor was a reporter, and Perry told me that mine was too.

"Something about feminist's rights," he had murmured when I asked.

"Ugh, not again."

I'm all for ladies rights and everything, but these ladies preach more than Jess does on Holy days, honestly. They just go on and on and on. Lincoln smiled and sat with his own reporter. Mine was a woman with tanned skin and green eyes like a cat. She spotted me, and a vicious smile came upon her face. That was the smile of a bad person trying to be good.

"Emilie, pleasure to meet you. I'm Rose," she smiled.

I wasn't certain that was her name. I'd met reporters before. They'd show me a badge, and give me their full name and the paper they were writing for. But still, I sat and listened to her.

"Do you regret being a murderer?"

"I didn't intend to hurt anyone."

"A yes or no answer will suffice Miss Robins."

I frowned and leaned closer to her. "Listen _Rose_, you and I both know you are most certainly not a reporter. No badge, no surname, no papers. Nothing. You're not even writing this stuff down. At least Linc's reporter is trying to embrace her role."

"Did it occur to you that I have a good memory?"

That smile of hers returned. "You know I don't believe that," I smiled back.

"Emilie, your case is a very interesting case."

"Oh wow, thanks. I thought so too."

"Edna's been asking for you, you know."

I paused. She had gotten my attention. Edna. Jess' overly Religious friend. Well actually, all of Jess' friends were overly religious. Edna just happened to be slightly more obsessive.

"Really? Send her my love then."

"I doubt she'd want a criminal such as you to send her love Robins."

"Turning nasty already are we Rosie?" I asked.

For the first time, she let her expressions go. Her nose twitched like a dog does when it's angry, how it bares its teeth in the form of a growl. Her head tilts forward only by a few inches to show me her anger, but she doesn't realize she's doing it yet. And finally, her fingers curl into a tight fist.

"You do not know just how nasty I can get Miss Emilie," she said, turning her growl into a mean little smile.

"Try me."

She wasn't scaring me if that's what she's trying to do. I could tell it was frustrating her, and she was used to people cowering on their knees before her, begging for mercy probably. Our…disagreement stopped when I heard Lincoln screaming behind me and his reporter standing to leave. Rose stood too and joined her. Lincoln's reporter turned and snarled at me.

"Emilie, she's setting me up!" Lincoln yelled, slamming himself against the cage as guards attempted to lead him away. I turned back to Rose and the woman who didn't stop to chat.

"Nice meeting you Emilie," she smiled in a catlike way, outstretching her hand to shake mine. I took it gracefully.

"And you, Rose. I hope we meet again."

"Oh trust me. We will."

"Looking forward to it then."

* * *

Michael was trying very desperately to get my attention. His methods weren't like Rose's, who just came out with how much she disliked me. I'm starting to think Edna had something to do with this. Just a hunch. When he realized that there was no way he could get to me, he used others as a way to make me talk.

First was Lincoln. He could only do so much as all I had to do was walk away from the fence.

"Emilie, you just gotta listen to him okay? He only married-…"

And I was away from that fence quickly. Lincoln punched the fence in frustration, yet I still ignored him.

"You're still with us Emilie! You can't ignore that!"

He was right there. I knew that no matter how hard I tried, Michael and Lincoln would never let me stay behind in that plan and not go to Panama with them. I couldn't stay silent forever – I was way too chatty and I'm very bad at staying angry.

Next, he threw C-Note and Abruzzi at me at the same time. They stood on either side of me, both telling me to just listen to Michael. Michael himself stood with Sucre on the other side, and sent Sucre over when C-Note and Abruzzi gave up. Along with Sucre was Westmoreland. I trust both of them.

"Emilie, her name is Nika, and she needed a green card to get in here," Westmoreland explained.

"Yeah mami! Papi would never hurt you like that. I mean, if I did that to Maricruz she'd definitely go with Hector."

"Who?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Who was Hector? I knew Maricruz was his fiancée, and I remembered the day that Sucre had picked me up and spun me around while excitedly screaming 'She's pregnant!' very well.

"Never mind," he sighed, staring at the sun sadly for a moment.

Westmoreland coughed. "So anyway, you just have to understand that Michael -…"

"That Michael is a cheater," a voice finished with a chuckle.

Theodore had taken it upon himself to fuel my anger.

"Eh T-Bag, this hasn't got anything to do with you."

"Now hold on Pablo," Theodore grinned. "I do consider young Emilie here to be an amigo of mine, so you can just take a step back there now can't cha?"

"I don't consider you an amigo of mine Theodore, not after what you did to Seth."

His gaze narrowed. "Now you watch that pretty little mouth of yours Emilie. What Seth did to himself had nothin' to do with me."

"It had everything to do with you! He couldn't survived in here if you hadn't made his life hell!"

"Think of it this way, if I hadn't looked after him, Barron or his group would've. Count yourself lucky it was me beautiful!" he argued.

I must admit I stormed off, more angry at everyone than at just Michael now. Did they not understand how hurt I was? Sure, Michael was being good by helping Nika, I can understand that. But if he found it so easy to tell everyone else and get them to be the ones to tell me, how come he couldn't just say it himself?

* * *

During lunch in the cafeteria, Michael was no where to be found. I sat with Tweener, keeping a close eye on Barron who was staring over, food dribbling down his chin. I rolled my eyes until Tweener started to shake and cough.

"Tween?" I asked, worried now. He was going red, clutching my arm. "Tweener!"

Guards pushed me away, even Perry who knew how much I liked Tweener. The whole cafeteria had turned to look now and he was put onto a stretcher and was being wheeled towards the infirmary. Of course I went after them, and they had been so worried about him that they had just let me come with. I held his hand, watching him choke up food. He was having a fit.

They slammed the door on me and all I could do was stand outside and watch as Sara prepared to help him.

"He's only faking Emilie," said a calm voice. Oh crap. Michael just had to be coming out of infirmary. So that's why he wasn't at lunch.

"Shut up," I hissed, though I was relieved Tweener was okay. Then I spotted him wink at Michael and I thumped Michael hard on the chest, for making me panic about Tweener and for the whole Nika thing. He smiled back at Tweener and then turned to me.

"Emilie, will you please just listen to me?"

"So now you're willing to talk to me about your wife? I was expecting you to get Sara to talk to me, or have you used up all your options?"

He stayed silent for a while. "I'm not used to you being anything other than happy."

"Oh shut up Michael, I'm serious."

He smiled. "I know you are, but it's been weeks and you've never been anything but happy."

"So you'd rather talk about happiness than the fact you lied to me?"

He sighed. "Em, we're going to go to Panama. Nika will not be going with us. It'll be me, you, LJ and Linc, okay? You know that the low latent inhibition it can make me…" he trailed off, finding it hard to continue.

"More aware of other people's feelings, yes I know."

"So you have to believe me when I say that the idea of you being angry and sad with me is killing me. But Nika had the same problem, she was going to be sold and I couldn't just let that happen, so I married her to get her a card to get into the USA."

He was winning me over. Something about his eyes, I don't know. But they say love is blind. Nika was in trouble, and Michael being the rescuer that he is, helped her. I could deal with that.

"Fine," I murmured, turning to look back at Tweener.

"Fine?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes, fine," I said, smiling a little myself as he took my hand.

"Thank you."

"Shut up Michael," I laughed. "You still owe me one. This means I can marry Bellick and you won't mind, right?" I joked.

"We'll see." His tone was so serious that we began laughing in front of all the guards.

"Someone take them back to their cells!" Perry yelled, holding Tweener down again, who was slowly calming down.

"This is your fault Mike. You're just a bad influence."


	14. Innuendo

**A/N:**_ So, sorry for the late update! ^_^ Thank you for the story alerts/reviews/favourites etc. :) _

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**Chapter Thirteen – Innuendo **

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It was quick. A squeeze, and he had vanished. Yes, a pervert had squeezed my ass. I almost screeched as I'd been in the lunch line, but when I turned around to attack this weirdo, no one was there. My heart was thumping even if I had no idea who it was.

"Eh, Emilie what's wrong withchu man?" Sucre asked in front of me, his accent slightly thicker than it normally was.

"Perverts."

He rolled his eyes and picked up some dodgy looking potatoes that I narrowly avoided. I don't normally like green spots in my potatoes, if I'm honest. The pervert was one of many who enjoyed getting at me when I wasn't looking, but they were skilled about it. They'd wait until I wasn't focused and in a large group before they tried anything for fear of who'd help me out.

Sucre is pretty strong when he wants to be, and Theodore would help me too. Mainly because he knows if I got into a fight, and was put into solitary, Michael would refuse to break them out of prison until I'd somehow got out. Michael himself would definitely help, maybe Abruzzi and C-Note too. Poor Tweener would try, but he's not as buff as the other people in this prison. And Westmoreland...well, you get me.

"Just ignore it Mami," he said absentmindedly. I slapped my forehead lightly. _Men!_ Honestly. "Think about it Emilie, Maricruz is gonna have my son soon," he murmured dreamily, almost walking into Theodore who stood in front of him, annoyed as always.

"Make sure you raise him to not be a pervert," I smirked lightly.

"Sure thing Lady."

"Stop calling me Lady."

"Why don't you both shut up?" Theodore exclaimed, spinning around.

"Alright Grandpa, we'll shut up," I sniggered. Sucre and I nudged each other, which just annoyed Theodore even more. You should have seen his face when Sucre threw a potato onto his tray for the fun of it.

* * *

I got the notice a few hours later, saying Lincoln wanted me present when he was…electrocuted. But that would not happen. I wouldn't let it, of course. I had forgotten about it for the most part when I entered P.I to see everyone dripping in water. I raised an eyebrow at their pitiful expressions. Bellick came storming in, like a bull, practically knocking me down. I had almost tripped on the chains when he busily bulldozed past.

As he questioned them, and they answered, I realized they were lying. C-Note was ringing his hands together, something I at first though he was doing to wipe off the water. When I watched his body language for a while, I saw he did it from fear of being caught. I rolled my eyes. Here we go again.

Bellick turned his attention to me. "Skiving again, are we Robins?"

I wasn't listening, my eyes on Michael's. Bellick gave me a shove to wake me up a little, barking in my ear.

"Oh shut up Bellick," I hissed at him.

"Oh, hormonal are we?" he chuckled. "Well solitary could help with that."

"You have no reason to put me in there."

"Not yet."

My eyes narrowed at his, almost as if he was begging me to hit him, to do something wrong to give him an excuse to attack. I am not naturally violent, he knows that, but if he was to try hard enough, he could easily push my over the edge. And look at that, Michael had left a hammer lying around, close enough for me to grab and then…

"Emilie," Michael said sternly, almost as if he could read my mind.

"Yeah, yeah," I murmured, not taking my eyes off Bellick. "I know."

"Good. You ladies _and_ Emilie," Bellick smirked, "will stay here all night if you have to."

Despite their false protests, I said nothing though I knew I could win a Grammy for my acting skills right about now. My body was aching to grab that hammer and bash Bellick's head in. Still, the show must go on.

"Hello boys," I smiled when the guards had left, stuffing my hands into my pockets and strolling forward. Theodore chucked a screwdriver at me, which I caught easily and smoothly. "Geez Theodore. I didn't think you'd miss me that much."

Michael patted my back, kissing my temple before smiling. "_I _missed you."

"Now, see that, _that's_ how you welcome someone back Theodore."

"Oh really?" he smirked, turning to face me as they removed everything so we could get to the hole. "You want me to kiss you then?"

He came towards me, pouting with the weirdest expression on his face. I laughed and dodged him as Michael slowly pulled him back.

"No way," Michael breathed. "Not on my life."

"Oh Pretty go be overly-dramatic and romantic somewhere else please, you are giving me an insanely painful toothache from all this sweetness and fluff," Theodore frowned, turning to help out.

* * *

The media has a one-track mind, I guess. Because I couldn't help but think of the protesters as we prepared to climb through pipes to get out of here. How Michael planned to get Lincoln out of solitary I had no idea, but I couldn't stop thinking about one thing – protesters.

We had seen them on the way out of the infirmary, Sarah and I. A few spotted me, and then a whole group of them came forward, all babbling and rushing and asking weird questions, like if I agreed with the death penalty. Silly question, I'm a con. Of course I don't.

My own protesters had asked equally idiotic questions when I was first sentenced.

_"How do you feel about going here?"_ Well, I feel just dandy.

_"Do you feel intimidated with all these men around you?"_ Not really. Just the constant fear of assault, but other than that no, everything's great.

_"Would you pose for a picture beside the prison gates for the newspaper?"_ Oh of course I would. I think I look better from the left side really. Actually, I look better from both sides.

The weirdest thing that really annoyed Bellick when he first met me was that I'm smiling in my mug shot. It's a bright, beaming smile. Something you'd get from an energetic five-year-old on their first day of school, not someone going to prison for five years. The officer who'd taken it did everything to make me frown, even resorting to name calling, but that made me laugh more.

Eventually they had such a long line of cons behind me, waiting to get their mug shot, that they said 'okay' and let me go, saying they'd take another one some other time. They haven't called me yet. I wanted a lavender background, maybe a sunset to bring out my eyes but apparently I didn't have a choice when I was getting my mug shot.

My nerves weren't even reacting right, because I had no fear of being caught yet. I don't know why, perhaps I was in shock or something dramatically cool like that. Theodore was puckering his lips up and smacking them together with a smirk whenever he saw me and made eye-contact just to annoy Michael. But Michael, being the absolutely gorgeous genius that he was, ignored him brilliantly.

"Oh Romeo, I love you so," Theodore sang as he worked.

Michael's voice cut through the air like a knife when he said the words we'd all been waiting to hear for a long time. "Time to go." So _that's_ when my nerves started to act up.


	15. Bellick and the Boys

**A/N: **_Updatifacation! :D Made up words! Ah! Yay! :)_

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**Chapter Fourteen – Bellick and the Boys**

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**Edna had said I was born to raise Hell and cause chaos. She said I was a devil's child and that no one should even look at me for fear of me tainting them. At least I think that's what she said, I was watching TV when she was talking and whatever was on TV was clearly much more interesting than she was. I think it was a documentary on criminals – kind of ironic I ended up being one though. Actions have consequences, she said. Something always comes back to bite you in the end.

I took a deep breath, not liking the smell in these sewers we crawled through. They smelled foul, vial and diabolic to put it lightly, but I seemed to be the only one annoyed by it. Or aware of it.

"Your boys better be there," Theodore growled at C-Note.

"Oh they'll be there Cletus don't you worry," C-Note retorted. I almost fell down that hole that led to the infirmary from laughter. Cletus, what a brilliant name.

As Michael climbed up first, 'Cletus' and C-Note continued their little fight.

"I bet everyone here agrees you're a moron," C-Note hissed, glancing up at the hole from which Michael had climbed through.

"Now that ain't true. Saint Emilie over here would disagree."

"Emilie hates you."

"Does not."

"Yes, she does you stupid redneck."

"Ah, now that one hurt my feelings. I thought we were brothers," Theodore smirked.

"I would never, ever be your _brother_, brother," C-Note muttered, taking a step towards him threateningly.

"Careful now," Theodore said, wiping a fake and non-existent tear as he grinned. "You might just make me cry there sweetie-pie."

As C-Note's fists clenched and his body language began more aggressive, Michael became a hero once again when he whispered, "Let's go!" from above us. C-Note didn't move immediately, his glare so intense. I passed them out, a little more worried about climbing that rope.

Gym hadn't been my best subject in school, though I passed it like the rest of my subjects. In fact, I did surprisingly well in it. I was proud. Elated, even. Michael hauled me up when I had gotten to the top, rubbing my back and saying, "well done." I bloody deserved a 'well done' after that.

When everyone had climbed up, my breathing had slowed to the normal pace, though I now noticed everyone was sweating heavily from fear. My nerves hadn't been working I guess, because I wasn't afraid yet. No, nothing.

Well, that was until I followed Michael's gaze and spotted the bright, brand new pipe in the corner. The one that was supposed to lead us to freedom. Michael desperately clawed at it as I turned on my heels, running my hands through my hair as I sighed. Michael could never have known, though the other guys didn't appear to see it that way.

"Emilie," he whispered as he stepped back from the pipe, giving up a little. "Em.."

"Oh God dammit Romeo!" Theodore cursed, clasping his hands together and putting them on his head. "God dammit!"

"I'm sorry," Michael whispered sadly. My heart broke. Not from hearing that we would not escape, but because Michael's voice was so sad and desperate, cracking as he spoke.

Then we heard it, a sharp and deep, "Michael."

That was Lincoln!

"He's there," Michael smiled, staring at the pipe. His eyes turned desperate then, grabbing a large, thin pipe that was on one of the shelves before shoving it between a loop in the wall and pipe, pushing against it, trying to crack that new pipe. Sucre helped of course, but after a few seconds it was clear we would not get through this way.

Michael had one of the most composed personalities I'd ever seen. Seeing him like this made me want to cry. He was sweating, his fear so obvious. Michael's fear was never so obvious. My heart was thumping, and I was now as nervous as the others.

The smaller pipe snapped so suddenly it made me jump. Theodore put his hand on my back, and I shoved him away. He just smirked his sick smirk. He went back to keeping watch.

When he 'ssshed' us, we all froze, hearing the footsteps outside. My breathing increased when I looked at Michael, seeing that fearful look in his eyes. That's what scared me. We stayed so still, all afraid and thinking of what we would lose if we failed and got caught. Theodore gave a quick, curt nod and they continued pulling until the thin pipe snapped.

My mouth dropped. Being caught was always a possibility, of course, but it had always been just that – a 'possibility'. Until it happened I would never really feel the consequences, would I?

"It can't be done. It's too thick. I'm so sorry."

He fell, dejected to a sitting position. "We're not getting out of here."

Theodore pulled a shank from his boots, making me sigh in frustration. Of course that old redneck had to make things worse.

And then we heard it, the footsteps coming back.

Being the sly, smart person he was, Theodore had come up with a Plan B apparently. The guys all said they would back Michael up if push came to shove. Yet the minute the footsteps had been heard, Michael had jumped up, grabbed my arm and yanked me towards the crates to hide behind.

Everyone now followed his lead and hid, our hearts thumping. I was finally feeling the fear, seeing the man pick up the pipe. His keys jangled. Michael was sweating, his heart pounding at the same rate as mine I think. The guy called for another guard and came dangerously coming to find us.

When they had left, my heart was still thudding.

"We gotta go, now," Westmoreland growled huskily.

"Ladies first," Sucre smiled politely. I rolled my eyes but thanked him anyway. No time for that anyway.

So we began tying the rope to the pipe, keeping an eye on the guards. When it was my turn to go, I gave Michael a quick peck.

"Promise you won't wait," I said quickly.

"Promise, promise," he replied, just as fast.

I climbed down, landing clumsily. "Well, that went horrifically bad," I murmured to myself, straightening out my jumpsuit.

Westmoreland joined me soon after. Slowly they all started climbing down, until it was just Michael left. I desperately tore at my clothes, my hair, my skin waiting. I am a terribly impatient person, it can't be helped. Or at least, I'm impatient in situations where I could lose everyone I love. Other then that, I'm normally fine.

Finally he got down. I almost cried from relief I was that desperate to see him okay. Then we climbed through the sewers. I had a horrible feeling that something was going wrong. Well, obviously our escape plan was going wrong, but this was something else. A person, I think.

When we got out, Westmoreland didn't have enough time. Telling him to stay down, we focused on the banging against the door. It was Bellick, roaring his head off. We just had enough time to straighten up when he burst in.

It was tense. He was suspicious, and left. We got Westmoreland out, huffing and puffing something terrible. Then Bellick re-entered, realizing there weren't enough of us there. Westmoreland had bent down to tie his shoelace.

"You're missing one," Bellick sneered, sure he had caught us out.

"Right here boss," Westmoreland said cheerfully as he stood.

Bellick hadn't caught us yet. We left, dejected. It had failed. The plan had failed.

* * *

As the sound of a new kid crying filled my ears, I vaguely wondered what life inside here for the next five years would be like. Initially, I hadn't been very scared. I still wasn't. Just the sound of a new kid bawling his eyes out and begging his 'momma to come take him away from this God-awful place' made me wonder.

Would I end up as cruel and heartless and bitter as T-Bag?

Or as sly and street-smart as C-Note?

Maybe I'd end up in some sort of trouble and have to stay here until I was Westmoreland's age. Then I'd definitely lose my marbles. If I hadn't already lost them.

The kid started babbling something incoherent, and then let out a piercing scream that woke the whole prison up. He cried and cried, repeatedly screaming, "I'm sorry!". I sighed and went to my cell door, looking out. Other prisoners did the same, roaring at him and telling him to shut up or they'd make him, banging their cell doors. It made him cry more.

I really, really needed to get out of here.

* * *

Kids are a rare sight in prison. Yet when I entered the visiting room to see Jess, three kids sat in the seats across from me, visiting their daddy Bruce. I knew Bruce quite well – harmless guy, done for a crime rather similar to Sucre's. Armed robbery or something. Rumor has it that he only wanted to get the money so he could get his kids some school books. Sweet guy, for the most part.

His kids were beautiful. A girl and two boys. Bruce Junior was the eldest, then the girl Milly and the youngest boy Alex. He was barely three. Bruce Junior was ten, and Milly couldn't be more than seven or eight. She held her older brother's hands quite tightly.

"Will you be out soon?" she asked her dad as the mother watched on. Milly looked like her mother actually, blonde and blue eyed like me.

"Soon sweetheart."

"You promise to finish that story you started? The one with the princess and the frog?"

"I promise."

When visiting hours were over, I went to my cell and cried for the first time since I was about ten. Even then, I'd only cried because I'd fallen and scratched my knee. Baby.

I felt a lot more like a baby when I lay on my bed that night, silent tears rolling down my cheeks. My eyes were bloodshot, my fear prickling under my skin and my blonde hair slightly tangled and messier than normal. What I was afraid of, I don't know, but for the next few nights my bad sleeping habits returned and Sara had to prescribe more pills to make me sleep or she feared I'd pass out from exhaustion. Or worse.


	16. The Rat in a Domino Effect

**A/N: **_So sorry for the late update! Happy St. Patrick's Day! :)_

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**Chapter Fifteen – The Rat in a Domino Effect  
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**Death can come in many forms. Lincoln's death was in the form of a chair. I've been threatened once or twice as I walked throughout the prison walls but honestly, that's nothing special about that in here. It would be weird if I _hadn't_ been threatened. I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling and throwing a small blue ball up and down in my hand.

Bellick walked by once or twice, and from his body language he was pretty pissed off. I had gotten used to their language in here. Boredom. Pure and utter boredom. Frustration too. The prisoners are always mixed, depending on the person.

"Okay, yard time!" Bellick roared, and with the sound of a buzzer, the gates were opened. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I rolled off the bed and went out to the 'balcony'. If I called it that enough times, I could pretend I'm on a bloody holiday. Everyone was so…testy and tense in here. Something was going on.

"Wait a minute," Bellick hissed suspiciously. Michael was out of his cell, and he gave me a slow nod. Today was the day his brother died, and I was going to be there. Oh dear God, I can't stand to see Michael sad. His eyes were so…heart-breaking and it numbed me to the core.

I spotted Nemmins, a man convicted of rape and assault, though I didn't know his full story or if that was really what he had been put in for. He was short, and very fat. Some sweat rolled down his brow, and his lips were tense and tight. His eyebrows drew together as Bellick walked past him on the bottom floor, and he unconsciously tucked in his torso, stepping away from Bellick who didn't notice.

Nemmins was hiding something. From the way he was holding his pocket, it was a small knife. The outline was visible.

"There has been rumours," Bellick announced. "…of another race riot."

Some eyes swivelled towards Theodore, who merely stared straight ahead. He stayed calm. Nemmins was chewing his lip, something we tend to do unconsciously if we're too focused. It makes it hard for us to admit what we're doing wrong, like we're keeping the secret hidden.

"Robins! Step forward," Bellick barked.

Unfortunately, I hadn't heard him, since I was staring at Nemmins, who suddenly looked at me. Michael gave me a little nudge, and I blinked, realizing every prisoner's eyes were on me. Bellick had the ghost of a smug, dark smile on his face.

"Yeah?"

"You know how people 'act', don't you?"

_He's mocking me._ And there's nothing I can do about it. "Why yes, sir, I do."

His smile grew. "So if I were to drag a couple of inmates out of here, you could tell me who's lyin'?"

Probably. In fact _yeah_, I could. But I couldn't do that, not here in front of everyone. In prison, if you were to disrespect one person, it causes a domino-effect. Every single person who is friends with that one guy you disrespected automatically wants to slit your throat. Trust me on this.

Michael stared at Bellick. "He's trying to put you in Solitary. Just in time for Lincoln's execution. He's trying to get you back for everything we've ever done to him."

I wanted to squeak in fear a little, but that would be pointless. Solitary. I'm terrible at being alone. I need people. I couldn't miss Lincoln like this.

Another problem was Nemmins' friends. There were a few, but his two main men were Bobby and Robby. Their names are similar, and they look a lot like Nemmins. Short and fat, but their in for the same thing as Michael, armed robbery.

"Say for example, I said that I first drank alcohol when I was fifteen, could you tell if I were lyin' or not?" Bellick asked.

From how he straightened up, I guessed he was lying. He wanted to seem tough, make himself look bigger. It's like how when a bear attacks you, it stands on it's hind legs to make itself look more threatening. Men like Bellick do it to make themselves look better.

"You're lying. You were probably much older than that," I said quietly, not knowing what to do. I glanced helplessly at Michael. Sucre was beside him, his eyes nervous and he was all twitchy.

The guys in the prison snickered, and even some of the prison guards laughed. This only made it worse. I didn't want them to laugh. I wanted to crawl back into my cell and stay there. I knew Bellick would get me back, but I never guessed he'd try to stop me from saying my goodbyes to Lincoln. Lord knows Pope wouldn't let me out of Solitary if Bellick put me in there.

Another problem is I had no options. If I helped Bellick pick out the cause of yet another turbulent race riot, I'd have every prisoner thinking I'm a Rat. And if I didn't, I'd be shoved into solitary without saying goodbye to Lincoln.

"Smartass," Bellick muttered, rubbing his balding head and losing the tough façade.

"Right. Let's try another 'example' eh Robins? Nemmins, Williams, step forward."

Terry Williams was a tough guy, taller and broader than Nemmins. He towered over him like Michael did to me. He was better-looking than Nemmins too, with stronger cheekbones and a more defined face with messy brown hair and dark stubble. Though I hear he has scars on every part of his body bellow the collar from fights as a teenager.

"Well that won't work," I said quietly.

Bellick's head snapped towards me, and Michael straightened up.

"What the Hell do you mean '_it won't work_'?" Bellick asked.

"You're making them aware of their movements. I can't read it if they're fidgeting and nervous like that. Obviously they're going to lie."

Bellick seemed to growl. "Yard time."

* * *

I was on edge for the rest of the hour we had to spend on the yard. Michael stayed close, rubbing circles on my hand and keeping his eyes firmly on anyone who came towards the benches and thinking of his brother. I kept running my hands through my hair and looking at the ground, knowing Nemmins would certainly make his presence known.

And it did happen – just not with Michael around. He was getting his shots with Sara, before he gets ready to see Lincoln. Shouldn't take too long. If I was lucky, I'd get to say bye too. But for now, it was just strictly blood-relatives.

"Howdy, Robins."

I suppose I'm not very lucky then.

With a long, depressed sigh I spun around on my small chair to face Nemmins, whose large frame took up most of my doorway.

He took a step forward, and before his clenched fist had even slammed into my head, I knew what would happen. I knew from the moment he said 'howdy'.

But I didn't just let him hit me. I took a slight step away and kicked his back, which made him slam his head against the bunk beds. A group was quickly forming outside the cell, with them screaming and laughing and roaring. My head hurt, badly, a throbbing feeling swirling throughout my brain.

"You little bitch," he cursed. "You know, I can just get Scofield for this. I got myself some real good friends Emilie, friends who know how to get Michael when he's down, babe."

I don't know what happened then. It was like being possessed, seeing yourself doing it but not knowing how. I had grabbed Nemmins jumpsuit and shoved him – hard, towards the bars on the balcony. He steadied himself, yelping when his back connected with the bars. He steeled himself and growled as the crowd pushed back.

"Mami, stop it, this is what he wants!" Sucre babbled.

I didn't listen. Maybe I should have, but I was way too far gone then.

"Emilie! Emilie, stop this!" a voice yelled. Sara Tancredi, sounding distant. Her voice echoed in my brain, and I wondered just how hard Nemmins had punched me. Hitting a woman wasn't really something he cared about, but I knew he was surprised I hit back.

Though as I stalked towards him, intend on punching him so hard he saw stars, I hadn't noticed a troupe of guards rushing towards me. Well, I didn't until I was tackled. Again.

Oh, did I mention that I resisted and was Tasered?

I fell to the ground, physically shaking, in front of everyone, as a guard held me down and stopped my head hitting the concrete ground. I was shaking, my body burning. They picked me up, and at first I kicked and screamed, but they Tasered me again. That put me right out like a light. I was distantly aware of being put on a cold, concrete ground and then a voice, yelling my name and then hissing it.

"Emilie, is that you?"

"...Lincoln?"


	17. By The Skin And Teeth

**A/N: **_Jeez, it's taken me a while to update. Again. My bad. Enjoy, happy readers!..._

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen – By The Skin And Teeth**

* * *

"_A man is not old until regrets take the place of dreams.__"  
_- **John Barrymore**

* * *

It was like I'd been at the bottom of a very deep, inky black pool. As I swam closer to the surface, lungs burning for air, it only got clearer. And then, just as I woke up, I broke through the surface. I'd never been Tasered before, and my head was all groggy and slow when I woke up. My eyes were terribly bloodshot and hurt to even blink, and I was still shaking a little.

"Look, it's Sleeping Beauty," one of the guards muttered outside the door.

Wait. _Outside the door._

I'm in the Shu. Oh My God, I'm in the Shu! How long have I been out? There's no windows, nothing to let me know. I slammed the door, screaming at this guy, begging him to let me know what time it was, or if Linc's execution.

"Emilie, calm down," a voice echoed.

I froze, looking around and seeing the pipe on the ground. Ah, yes. Through a black haze of memories from a few hours ago, being dragged here and thrown painfully hard on the ground, I had heard Lincoln. I thought I was hallucinating for a second, but this voice repeated my name.

"Lincoln!" I hissed down the pipe.

"Finally, you've been out forever."

"Yeah well, I'm not exactly great friends with the Taser."

"I've noticed. How are you feelin' kid?"

I took a moment to consider that. He, a man on death row, was asking me, a girl who had been Tasered, how she was feeling. Lincoln really was a good guy, huh? I sighed and rubbed my eyes, still sore and bloodshot.

"I'm…good. How are you?"

He chuckled lowly, "I've been better."

"Do you think they'll let me out to say goodbye?"

He stayed quiet for a moment. "No. I don't. Pope isn't a bad guy, but he has rules to follow Em."

A tear rolled down my cheek then, and I felt like such a fool. How on Earth could I let my anger go like that? I hit the wall with my hand, ignoring the vibrations of pain that ran up and down my arm. I put my head in my hands and sighed, seriously feeling like an idiot. For so long I'd stayed calm, and now look what happened.

"We can say goodbye now though," Lincoln whispered.

"I don't wanna say goodbye now," I muttered childishly. "I don't want you to leave."

He laughed at my childishness, and for once in a long time he had some life in his laughter. I had tears down my face from sadness, but the guy on death row was laughing. There's something off about that.

"I'm not exactly thrilled to be leaving either Em," he said. "But I'll miss you. If you ever do get out, give LJ a hug from me."

"I love you Lincoln, so I suppose I'll go through the trouble," I chuckled sadly. He laughed as well.

"God, it's hard to imagine not seeing him grow up Em. I mean, when he was born I had all these hopes and fears for him, but I never thought I'd miss it all like this. Never like this. You're barely an adult yourself, no matter what you and Michael say. And Michael, he's ruining his life himself and he's not as old as me and he...," he continued, talking like he was 400 years old, his voice softening, "…goes through all of _this_ just for me."

"He loves you," I replied simply, since it was so painfully and plainly obvious.

"I know," he said. "But a brother shouldn't have to do this. So much. I…I don't know how long is left Em, but please know I love you for what you've done, for how you've tried to help me even when you didn't know me, and we've gotten to know each other pretty well. I still have to get you back for putting snow down the back of my jumpsuit. That was just cruel. Please, look after Michael for me."

"I promise."

* * *

I heard them take him away a few hours later; I was grateful for the time I had to talk with him. We spent those last few hours talking about stupid, idiotic things like favorite colors, or our memories. He laughed a few times, telling me things about LJ. He always lingered on LJ, his voice hoarse and lost. My heart ached for him, and I cried when I heard the chains rattling as he was taken away. Michael would be devastated.

* * *

"Do you ever think of consquences?"

I glanced at Sara, raising an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"I'd like to be as carefree as you."

My eyes narrowed, all the pain and anger at losing Lincoln towards her for a split second. She looked at me, noticing the anger and then sighed. She rubbed something warm onto the cloth in her hand, before wiping at a painful bruise on my eyes. She blew at it, then smiled.

"Cut lip, bruised eye. You're lucky."

First I'm carefree, then I'm lucky. Sara Tancredi must have no idea what those words mean. Her definition is slightly different to mine, that's for sure. She was patching me up, and couldn't lift my mood at all.

Sighing, she put her hands on her hips and frowned at me. I frowned right back.

"Where's the Emilie I know, hm?"

"Sorry _mom_, I'm not feeling all that peppy right now."

"Dully noted," she said, her lips turning into a tight line. Once again, she sighed. That was driving me crazy. "I'm sorry, Em. I didn't mean you were carefree. Obviously you're not. You're in prison, a male prison. That's silly. What I meant is you normally don't care about what trouble brings. You just do it and have no regrets. I envy that. And by lucky, I meant you're lucky that Nemmins didn't smash your skull in."

"Right, right. I'm not that 'carefree', I'm just an idiot. I have regrets."

Sara chuckled. "If that's how you see it."

I sighed, smiling at her and leaned against the wall. "Just patch me up Doc."

* * *

When I was alone, lying on my bed, Pope entered. He looked at me with a frown, but then he smiled.

"Time to let you out, Emilie."

"What?" I asked, looking up at him curiously. "Already?"

"You _want_ to stay here, Robins? It's like probation. Do anything else that's bad, and you're in here for a lot, lot longer. 'Til you rot, perhaps."

I jumped off the bed, putting my hand to my forehead in a salute. "No sir!"

He smiled, but my stomach churned. I'd have to see Michael, which was a plus, but he'd be so upset over Lincoln. Pope put a firm hand on my shoulder, almost as if he was…excited for something? Like a surprise.

As I exited the cell, he told me to wait for a moment. I watched as he fumbled with some keys, not sure why he was taking so bloody long when suddenly, a ghost appeared. Not a ghost, actually.

Lincoln. Standing, breathing and…_smiling_.


	18. Alive

**A/N: **_I'm so so so sorry! Late update, I know. I got a little...distracted. Big tests, lots of nuisances! :D_

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen – Alive**

* * *

"_An angry man opens his mouth and shuts his eyes.__"  
_**- ****Cato**

* * *

Freedom means something different for every man. In each cell, you have a chained up soul who's dying to get outside. Some will, some won't. One third of these hopeless men might just be able to fight back in with society. Others are the bad apples, the ones who were never meant to fit in, in the first place. How silly I was for thinking I could be any different. Lincoln Burrows just raised his arms and smiled at me as I gawped at him.

"L-Linc?"

"Yeah, it's me. I'm alive, kid."

I hugged him, squeezing him as tightly as my chains would allow. They stung, since I was chained way too tightly. I automatically checked his body language – I could already guess he would be relieved. He was shaking, breathing heavily.

"Robins. Come on, back to Gen Pop," a CO called.

My head is banging and reeling as I leave. The door leading to Gen Pop opens with a buzz that sends shock waves through me. Was it always that _loud_? The guard beside me known as Green belched, and I frowned. Ew.

I was waiting for threats and whispers to be thrown my way as I entered. I waited for Nemmins' friends to say they'd slit my throat and make me wish I was never born – but honestly, they were a little late on that note –and tell me they couldn't wait to get me alone. Nothing came. I looked up in slight surprise, and couldn't even control my expression of pure shock when the men walking freely around stepped away from _me_.

They stared at me like I was a wild animal; I didn't know whether to be happy about it or not.

Was it a good thing to know cons feared you? Or did it show that I had sunk to their level?

Theodore Bagwell swaggered towards me with a massive grin on his face. I sneered, annoyed already. He paused in front of me as I waited for my cuffs to be taken off, and grinned.

"Oh please, young Emilie, don't beat me like you did to poor old Nemmins! The man with one brain cell! Have mercy!" he sniggered.

I rolled my eyes, but smiled anyway. "Watch it Theodore. The cuffs are coming off."

"You know Little Emilie," he murmured, slinging his arm around my shoulders. He smelled revolting. Between us, his hand slithered down and revealed his white pocket. This was a sign in prison, that if you held Theodore's white pocket, you were part of his gang and were virtually untouchable. "You can always find some protection in this here association of mine?"

"Forget it Theodore. I didn't join your stupid little men's club when I first came here, and I'm not joining it now."

"Suit yourself. Pretty will be happy you ain't joinin'. Can't say I'm happy myself though," he sighed wistfully. "You is beautiful, and would-a been a fine addition to my crew."

"Keep walking, redneck," another voice chuckled. Sucre had appeared, and Theodore actually did as Sucre asked.

"Well if it isn't the most famous woman in all of A-wing."

"Really? What an honorable title," I smirked, stretching and pulling the fabric of my old blue jumpsuit. They let me put a thin darker blue belt around the waist, just to give me shape. It made me feel a little bit more feminine in here.

"Michael's plans are starting to get a little…loco," Sucre told me. I shrugged.

"It's prison Fernando. What did you expect?"

He chuckled grimly. "An easier ride than this, that's for sure. I'm so nervous, bro. How'd you keep a straight face?"

"Well, when I was learning all about body language, the main thing is the mind. Forget your muscles, just focus on what you're thinking about. Think about something that makes you happy. You can think about Maricruz, if you think it'll help."

His smile widened considerably. "Oh, it'll help."

I was greeted by the whole gang, and as I stood in the centre of them, I was enjoying myself so much I spun and bumped into someone. They were large, fat and ugly. Oh, hello there Nemmins…I froze a little, staring at him when he did something completely unbelievable.

"Sorry about that, Emilie. I wasn't looking where I was going."

I finally realized why he was actually nervous around me. On the right side of his face, Nemmins was missing some skin, an ugly scar surrounding the healing wound. I actually gasped. Had…Had I done that?

Oh God. I was just like everyone in this place. I was worse than Theodore. All the years I spent trying to pretend like I didn't care about labels and stereotypes, but in here, that was exactly how it worked. Now I was just a no-good violent con.

Michael, the only Angel and good guy in here bar a select few, appeared on time like he always does. He hugged me tightly, whispering into my ear. "We're gonna get out of here Em."

This time, I was beginning to believe him.

* * *

"Emilie," Sara Tancredi blinked in surprise. "I didn't expect to see you so soon."

"They let me out, of course. Bellick missed seeing my pretty face, so he probably put a word in with Pope to let me out."

That was very far from the truth. Bellick hated that I had been let out early. He had practically dragged me here, pulling me along gruffly. I smiled at Sara, as she pulled some files out. Her desk was back to clean perfection, and compared to my dodgy cell, hers looked so…OCD.

"Back to the usual OCD regime," I noted. She laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

There was one thing I noticed about Sara Tancredi was that she rarely laughed with feeling. When I laughed, I let myself go and enjoyed myself. Sara merely restrained herself, never showing her weaker, more genuine side. I wanted to ask her why. I wanted to ask if she ever laughed with real happiness.

But I didn't. Instead, I flopped down onto the couch, stretching my legs. It was late when they took me out, very late. I wasn't asleep, and Gary the 'badass' CO told me Sara was still here, sorting out files. So I asked to see her, and they couldn't deny a prisoner going through 'emotional therapy' the right to at least ask.

I had been talking for a few measly minutes when suddenly a scream so loud it tore through the halls, coming all the way from A-wing erupted. We both jumped, looking up into the halls. Guards were rushing, carrying a weak-looking man in their arms, lifting him up. Normally they put wounded people on stretchers, but the moment the door opened I knew why this poor guy wasn't lying down.

The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and I wriggled my nose as I suddenly realized something.

Oh God, it's Michael.

_My_ Michael.


	19. Psyche

**A/N: **_Sorry it's so short, forgive me! :) But enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen – Psyche**

* * *

"_I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity."_  
**- ****Edgar Allan Poe**

* * *

No one would tell me what was happening. I was pushed around by the guards as they tried to resuscitate Michael. His eyes rolled a little, looking blood-shot. He had no idea what was going on. Sara was completely calm, way more than I was. But she was probably used to seeing him like this. I vaguely wondered if Nemmins had done this. He had said he'd get Michael just to get at me. I wouldn't put it past him. I was practically screaming at these guards who were trying to take me back to my cell.

"Get off of me! Michael, can you hear me?"

He murmured my name, his eyes opening for one split second. Then they rolled back and the drugs took effect. He was alive, at least. If Nemmins had done this, I would kill him. I swear to any God who is listening to me, he will _die. _I'm certainly not as strong as him, but I could find a way. I'd even poison his food if I have to.

The next few hours were torture as I paced my cell, trying to figure out what was happening.

As I sat in the cafeteria, I received some horrible news. Theodore strolled up to me with a slick grin on his face, sliding into the seat beside me and patting my shoulder with fake sympathy.

"Now I am just so sorry to hear about poor Mikey," he murmured, eying me up and down again. I assumed he was talking about the burns, which Sucre had explained to me. Nemmins hadn't burned him. He'd been burned as he was trying to plot out this stupid escape.

I picked at the salad in front of me, my pony-tail swinging back and forth as I looked up at him. "Sara said he'd be fine, that the burns can be treated."

"Burns? Oh sweet-pea, I was talkin' 'bout Fish's little sanity lapse…up here," he grinned, tapping his temple.

"What are you talking about?" I frowned.

I realize now that Theodore just wanted to be the one to break it to me. Michael had been put in the psyche ward, and I wasn't told about it for fear of my brutal reaction. Well, they were right to fear it. I stood up and marched over to the closest guard, a woman called Lottie, screaming at her to let me see him.

She wasted no time in sending me back to my cell without having the rest of my lunch.

Everything was falling apart. My heart ached for Michael. What were they like in the psyche ward? Were they drugging him? Had the pressure of planning Lincoln's escape become too much for him?

Sucre approached me in the yard, nervously twitching the hem of his shirt. I was fuming, pacing back and forth as Theodore lounged on the benches beside me. He was like a lost puppy. Now that I didn't have Michael, he was trying to tempt me to 'join his gang' by holding that stupid white pocket.

"T-Bag, for the last time, if I didn't take it on the first day, I'm not taking it now. Quit asking!" I yelled.

"That is probably the first time you've called me T-Bag in months," he drawled, lying back on the benches and covering his eyes with his arm, singing an old country song in a low voice.

"Emilie, amiga, gotta talk to you," Sucre said. He was so…nervous. He took my elbow, pulling me towards the wire mesh fence. "Michael has lost some blue-prints."

"From the burn, I know," I said.

"Well, that's why he's in the psyche ward. You remember Haywire, right?"

Unfortunately, I did. He had caused a lot of problems for Michael. I looked up at the sky, squinting in the light. Sucre looked tired and annoyed. Theodore was still singing away in the background, whistling and chuckling a little to himself.

"Yeah."

"Michael…Michael thinks he might remember," Sucre explained, leaning in closer, like he thought someone was listening in. Paranoia was reaching each of us. If I ever got out of here, I am so writing a book about my terrible paranoid state.

"So he thinks Haywire can re-draw those tattoos for him or something?"

"I think so."

"This is getting crazier and crazier. How long do you think he can hold up?" I asked, worried out of my mind for poor Michael.

The psyche ward was famous for being the worst place to stay in here. Even the Shu was better than that. Of course, these were all rumors made up by prisoners who had never actually _been_ in there. Would he handle it in there? Haywire was sketchy. He could snap, and hurt Michael. Plus with those burns, he was in even more trouble.

"It's Michael, he will handle it."

I held my breath before I asked, "What can we do to help him?"

Sucre looked unsure, just as Theodore piped up, having finished his song. We both looked at him as he spoke, that trademark grin on his face as he played with his pocket.

"Well, mis amigos, I have a little idea if any of you's are interested."

Sucre looked at me, sizing Theodore up. He's hardly a truthful person that we could trust now is he? He's known for being a sneaky, conniving sly little rat. But recently, he's becoming more trustworthy as the escape gets closer. It's the best shot we had.

"Fine, let's hear it T-Bag," Sucre huffed, rubbing his hands together in the cold.

"Gather 'round ladies…Emilie, you can sit right beside me if you'd like, we can get real acquainted like."

"Shut it Theodore."


	20. Bluff

**Bluff**

* * *

"_If you love two people at the same time, choose the second one, because if you really loved the first one you wouldn't have fallen for the second."_

**Johnny Depp**

* * *

Westmoreland looked quite tired today. Having Theodore beside us wasn't helping. Westmoreland read a book, the Bible I think. He'd been reading it since we came in. We usually sat next to him now anyway. Everyone involved in the breakout was on edge lately. We needed money, and fast. A shadow fell across the table, and I sat up. At first I thought it was a guard, until I saw C-Note with some nasty bruises all over his face.

"Looks like the Bank of Africa wasn't allowing any withdrawals," Theodore noted drily.

I glared at him, but moved over to let C-Note join our table. He dropped his tray.

"We are gonna have to find another way to get that money, okay?" he whispered.

"Well then I reckon it ain't too much of a problem for our friend to rummage up, ain't that so DB?"

Westmoreland turned to face Theodore. I watched, though I was thinking about Michael in my head. Would he be okay in the Psyche Ward? He was smart – no doubt about that – but he could only get so far in a totally new place with a new plan. He had burnt himself, pretty badly. Some of the plans on his back were totally erased.

"I guess that leaves us with only one real option."

I looked up at T-Bag. Looks like he was making the plans now.

"The kitchen game," he said, nodding over at some guys around a table.

I had heard about that through the grapevine, but it was kept quiet. You had to pay the guards to get in, then you could gamble all you like. Only the men in the games weren't always playing fair.

"When I play cards, it ain't gambling."

Theodore sounded quite confident, grinning a little. I watched him carefully, but he knew that. He was more careful around me with what he gave away. Could we really trust T-Bag though? Michael was the genius here, he was always the one we depended on with this plan. Handing it over to Theodore – even for a little while – seemed like suicide.

"So why are you just bringing this up now?" Westmoreland asked suspiciously.

If Theodore was caught messing with the aces, he would be screwed. He explained that with a frank and sarcastic tone. I chewed on the old burger I had been served, but it wasn't very appetising.

"We could always sell Emilie around and work up the cash," Theodore smiled, sickly sweet.

My breath hitched in my throat a little there. Recently, I wasn't sure where I stood with T-Bag. He could make jokes like that, and he could stand up for me in front of his gang members. It was hard to understand. I knew he wouldn't do anything to me that could ruin his chances of getting out of here.

"Shut up T-Bag."

"Oh I hit a nerve," he chuckled. "Are you in or not, Robins?"

"What do I have to do?"

He gave me another perverted look, and I glared.

"Nothing like that Theodore."

He cackled again. "I'm just messin' with you. Alls you gots to do is read their body language to see if they know what I'm doing, you got me?"

"What makes you think it'll work with you and C-Note anyway?" I asked.

"Honestly, would you expect me to work with Theodore?" C-Note asked.

He had a point there.

"Fine, I'm in."

"Looks like we got ourselves a party," Theodore grinned, drinking from the milk carton.

* * *

Theodore had actually used his brain for once. The idea of C-Note and him working together was genius, because almost everyone in this prison knew how much the two hated one another. What I didn't like was the risk of being caught – but that was always a problem anyway. I don't mean caught with the plan or guards, because we always had that fear on our shoulders, but I mean with this gang. C-Note and T-Bag knew them better than I did.

I sat on the counter behind T-Bag. He would give me 'the look' every few seconds. He was keeping me quiet.

"I didn't know Fish's girl would be here," the leader of the gang murmured, playing with his cards a little. Oh, so I didn't even have a name anymore. I was just Fish's girl. This was for Michael. I reasoned with myself, repeating it over and over again in my head. His name was Jesus, surprisingly, but pronounced differently. How funny, a con named Jesus.

"Emilie, actually."

They laughed, but they didn't get angry with me or anything. The leader laughed especially hard.

"Didn't realize you had guts, _Emilie_. My apologies, right gentlemen?"

"Keep yourself quiet, okay Emilie?" Theodore hissed. "Women," he laughed loudly to the other guys. "Don't know their place, now do they?"

I took the opportunity to kick his ribcage from where I was sitting. He was playing along, keeping on the good side of these guys, but that didn't mean I'd let him get away with that comment. Stupid trailer trash. He glared at me. I glared back.

"Are we playing a game or what?" C-Note asked, giving us a look much like a father scolding his kids. Only the punishment would be losing to this gang and being beaten up.

"It's your turn, ain't it?" Jesus muttered. He was looking quite irritated. Two guys entered, but Jesus told him they'd have to wait. I held my breath as C-Note took his sweet time deciding how to make his next move. The kitchen boys were roaring orders to one another outside. Theodore gave me another 'look'. It was like a signal he had whenever he wanted to check the cards. It would be my job to either make a distraction or to check their body language.

This Jesus guy was good. He kept his cards close to his chest, something you'd expect in a card game. Only he was doing more than just protecting his cards, he was protecting himself. When we cross our arms it's like a way to keep people out, to create a barrier.

"C-Note! Grab or get off the pot."

His voice was strict, in command. He didn't waver. I suppose having bodyguards at the ready was a plus. Once again, Theodore made a racist remark. But their acting skills were good. The others didn't suspect anything as far as I could tell. As long as C-Note and T-Bag kept making comments about each other and hating each other, it might work.

"Three bitches. Bitches," Jesus smiled cockily, throwing his cards on the table.

I felt totally in the dark, since I knew nothing about gambling. How could Theodore do this? I even watched him for a few seconds as if I would see him switching cards or something.

Jesus eyed me up and down for a minute, leaning back in his chair and winking a little. I looked back at T-Bag, who was busy checking out C-Note's cards. C-Note laid them out on the table, looking a little bit more confident.

"A full house," Theodore grinned. "That's a concept a Mexican should be quite familiar with."

Would he ever quit with the racism? C-Note pulled the money towards him. But I didn't like the look on Jesus' face. His eyes were hard and he didn't blink. He didn't want to miss anything.

Theodore was only rubbing it in, smelling the cash. I kicked his chair lightly, but he paid no attention to me.

"How much you up?" Jesus asked.

"300."

As Theodore flipped the card, it fell over, revealing it was a ten of diamonds. I bit my lip to stop myself from saying anything, but I looked at Theodore. He looked back and kept dealing.

"Misdeal, burry the card," a guy across the table said. We all looked at him at once. If looks could kill..

"Man I don't care if y'all saw my card," C-Note shrugged, though I knew he was panicking inwardly. Theodore was much better at keeping a cool head, leaning back in his chair and staying silent.

"Yeah, I bet you don't," the guy replied slowly. "Bury the card young blood."

Crap. We were going to get caught out. We'd lose all the cash.

"Chill Wrinkles," C-Note said. "It ain't my fault Saltine here got a sloppy deal." He motioned towards T-Bag who sat up with the deck in hand. That was a good move of C-Note's, to go back to blaming Theodore and making it look like they couldn't stand one another.

Of course, they really didn't like each other, but with the plan to escape it made them work as a team. Something I know they both despised.

"Now that was just uncalled for," T-Bag said, pretending to be offended. "Now alright, you know what I'm gonna deal another hand if you're gonna be such a baby about it."

Jesus stopped him before he could anything. "Finish out the hand. House rules."

We shared a quick look, and I could see Theodore was losing his cool. He lost it a lot faster than Michael did. I straightened up on the counter, and instantly the bodyguards were looking at me. Some of their gazes lingered a little longer than I would have liked them too. With a look at the bodyguards, Theodore did as he was asked.

From the sigh C-Note let out, we were over. That was it. T-Bag's ingenious plan was ruined.

"Something wrong Em?" Jesus asked.

"'Course not," I smiled.

"You ever play a card game like this before?"

"Oh no," I said innocently, "never. I'm depending on Theodore here to teach me."

"I could always give you lessons," Jesus said seductively, and I'm not sure if he was messing with me to make the game more interesting or if he was serious.

Oh God no, that is so disgusting. I looked at Theodore for help. He seemed to be enjoying it just as much as Jesus was.

"Pretty wouldn't too happy," T-Bag smirked. "He's quite soft on her, if you get my drift."

"Fish is in the mental ward, ain't he?" the guy C-Note had called Wrinkles asked.

"Are we playing?" C-Note asked.

"I bet all I got," Jesus said, suddenly way more confident. C-Note didn't need to know body language to know that much, it was so obvious. He had the winning cards. Unless he was an amazing bluffer.

They were staring each other down, the tension rising. This was all going horribly wrong, and the three of us knew it. I had let Michael down.

We were caught.

"You in or out?" Jesus asked.

After counting out his money, C-Note said, "I'm in."

Theodore bit his lip, keeping his eyes low.

"And I raise you 74."

Ah. Smart C-Note. I think I was starting to get it. Making Jesus call his bluff, it was a good idea. If Jesus thought there was any chance he would lose his money, I doubted he would really give in. Then again, he even looked unsure of himself.

"You ever heard of a gentlemen's game?"

"Yes I have but this ain't it."

It was back to being a tense game, with everyone trying to stay one step ahead. Jesus suddenly slammed the table and stood up angrily.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me in the yard," he snarled.

We got the money! I almost jumped for joy right there and then, a grin on my face. That was close. But one thing made me happier than anything else.

We hadn't let Michael down.


	21. Key

**The Key**

* * *

"_I'm your own, Person Jesus…Feeling unknown and you're all alone, flesh and bone by the telephone, lift up the receiver, I'll make you a believer…Take second best, put me to the test, things on your chest, you need to confess, I will deliver, yo__u know I'm a forgiver. Reach out and touch Faith."_

**Personal Jesus, Johnny Cash.**

* * *

As I sat in the yard, I noticed Slim. I wasn't sure what his real name was, only that he was Sucre's cousin. Theodore sat beside me on the benches, playing with his sock a little. I had been talking to Tweener until Bellick called him over, which I hadn't paid much attention to. Bellick had called me over plenty of times to try and intimidate me, so he was probably doing the same to David.

"Eh, look at that. Fat boy over there is eying you up and down like a piece of candy! Looks like someone's got a big crush on you, Emilie," Theodore cackled.

I glanced over at Sucre's cousin. He seemed alarmed, looking away instantly.

Theodore laughed again. "The boy is blushin'. How cute," he said drily, but I doubt he was truly amused. He had been in a bad mood today, even though we got the money. Things went on in T-Bag's life that I didn't know about of course, so anything could've set him off.

"Leave him alone T-Bag."

"Ah, ah, ah," he murmured, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You know I've figured something out about you. You only call me by my nickname when you're angry."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Did I? I hadn't really noticed. I called him by his full name the most of the time because I knew it irked him. Now he was getting used to it. I'd have to come up with a new name.

"Oh shut up Teddy."

Bad mistake. He stood up and took my wrists tightly in his hands. "Don't you _ever_ call me Teddy, got me? Only a specific female and two kids can do that, and it ain't you. Understand me?"

I nodded. He stormed off, leaving me a little shaken. A 'specific female and two kids'. Did Theodore have family? He never mentioned it before, but he must have a reason to want to escape. I always thought it was just freedom he wanted, but it seemed I didn't know enough about him. I sat there for another few minutes.

Slim was still watching me even when the bell went off to signal that yard time was over.

* * *

I missed Michael dreadfully. I begged Sara to let me know if he was okay, but our meetings were getting shorter and shorter. Instead of seeing her everyday, I was only seeing her once or twice a week. Soon they'd be completely over. Yet another problem had risen too. Gary, that idiot Guard had taken our money and Westmoreland's watch. C-Note wanted to punch his lights out, but I doubt that would get us anywhere.

Theodore was still in a foul mood, but he and I were on speaking terms it seemed. As long as I never called him Teddy. He was such a psychopath. It should be him in the Psyche Ward, not poor Mike.

C-Note hit the table and knocked over my carton of milk. I managed to salvage most of it, picking it up carefully.

"Quit freakin' out C-Note, I only get one of these!" I scolded, motioning at the milk.

Theodore rolled his eyes. "We have more important things to worry about than your carton of milk, smartass. If you want me to get you some, I can always ask Squeaker."

He was referring to a very young, weedy kid. He had spiky blonde hair and was very pale. His real name was Stuart, but around here he was known as Squeaker. He had made the mistake of joining T-Bag's side by taking the white pocket. Whenever you said anything to him, he would get instantly nervous and his voice would go all high-pitched and squeaky, hence the nickname. I glanced over at Squeaker, who sat alone in the corner. By 'asking Squeaker', what Theodore really meant was he'd just punch the poor child and take his milk.

I felt like a playground bully right then.

"Forget it," I replied as Westmoreland began to talk.

Slim appeared as Westmoreland finished talking about maintenance fixing the toilet in Michael's room. If they did that, they'd find the hole and the whole plan would be ruined.

"I got a plan to help you with your Scofield problem," he said.

Oh no. "What'd you say Slim?" Theodore growled.

"I said I got a way to help you-…"

He didn't finished, of course. C-Note had him on the table. Once again he had knocked over my milk. I rolled my eyes tiredly and began picking it up.

"None of you want me to enjoy my meal, do you?" I sighed. "I get one of these. Hell, if you do it again I'm taking yours C-Note."

They didn't care. Too busy interrogating Slim.

"Who the Hell said we had a problem?"

Slim's eyes drifted fearfully to meet mine, and I popped a straw into the milk carton, watching. I doubted C-Note would do anything drastic anyway, we already had Sucre in the Shu. We couldn't afford another guy down there. Yet Slim didn't know this, so he was afraid. He was sweating already, eyes wide.

"Relax," he said. "Lincoln and Sucre told me everything."

It was my turn to have wide eyes, looking at Theodore and Westmoreland. Both were unhappy. If they had told him 'everything', it would mean yet another man on our team trying to escape. We already had one too many.

"What the Hell did they tell you exactly? What?" C-Note asked, getting more aggressive. Okay, so maybe he would do something drastic.

We glanced around at the people beginning to stare.

"Everything," Slim panted, his face pressed against the table. "That I gotta come with you. You know, on early parole if I can help get the Fish out of Psyche."

C-Note let him go and he slid into the seat beside mine. I let out a deep breath. Parole? Lincoln was thinking on his toes I guess. I pulled my hair back into a bun, my fringe falling into my eyes as I rubbed them. One plus was I wouldn't mess up my mascara. I wasn't allowed any kind of make-up in here, since it could be used as a 'weapon'. I could imagine trying to stab Theodore with a bit of lipstick. I doubted I would get very far.

"What are we the A-train, everybody gets to ride with us?" Theodore asked, breathing heavily. He hit the trays. Knocking over the carton of milk, again. By now I was actually considering taking Squeaker's. I wasn't really going to, but it sounded nice in my head. Since no one here was going to let me have mine.

The milk from my carton spurted onto Slim, and I was thankful I'd tied up my hair, otherwise it would've been a bitch to get out. Theodore leaned over the table, staring Slim right into the eyes. Only a few hours ago, that had been me he was glaring at. I could relate with Slim's fear, but right now I wasn't afraid of T-Bag.

Though I wasn't entirely sure where I stood with him anyway.

"Take a walk before I give you a smack," he growled.

Before Slim could leave, Westmoreland stopped him, speaking up for the first time.

"You got a better solution?"

"He's right Theodore," I said softly. T-Bag's eyes met mine. "We don't have a lot of options anymore."

Theodore didn't look away from me for a second, the gears in his mind churning. I kept my gaze strong though. It must have worked, because he sat back and threw the carton towards the ground.

Someone really didn't want me to have my milk.

"Me…and my cuz and Lincoln came up with something," Slim panted. Poor guy was terrified of all the others here. "Now it can work, but it's risky."

Theodore, Westmoreland and C-Note all looked at me at once, as if looking at me for guidance.

"I say we trust him."

Slim let out a deep breath, his brown eyes still searching. Theodore leaned back in his seat, narrowing his eyes at Sucre's cousin.

"You hear that Tubby? Emilie's rootin' for ya. Better not let her down, otherwise it's all our asses on the line. And you know what will happen then…"

He didn't need to finish the threat.

* * *

I sat on my bed, thinking once again about Michael. There was no denying I loved him. I couldn't get him out of my mind. My cell door was open, and when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that someone was leaning against the frame. I expected it to be C-Note, or T-Bag, coming to inform me on some terrible problem that had risen up once again.

Only it wasn't them; it was Nemmins.

"Howdy Emilie. Miss me?"

I looked away from him. Would he hit me in here? He didn't seem aggressive. He sat on the bed beside me, and I instantly put my guard. The fatso took up half the freakin' the bed. I turned to face him.

"Get out, Nemmins."

"_Oh_ but Miss Emilie, I only came for a chat…and to see your pretty face once again, not bruised and banged up."

The black eye I had given him was gone, though there was a slight scar on his right eyebrow. I didn't recall giving him that. Nemmins had lots of scars on his arm though. I asked T-Bag about them once, and he said that Nemmins had had a bad cellmate before. I didn't get what he meant by that, and he said that every time Nemmins didn't do something for this cellmate, he'd slit Nemmins' arms. Sounded pretty scary. Maybe that's why Nemmins is so disturbed.

"Don't you want to chat with me?" he smirked.

"Does it look like I want to?"

"Watch your tone, kid. Now you and I might have gotten off on the wrong foot, but we can fix that."

I carefully edged away from him. He could easily have a knife on him that the guards didn't know about him. He smiled and stretched.

"Oh Emilie. Imagine. If you stay in here for five years, I might get lucky and become your cellmate."

"I don't stay in cells with other men, you idiot," I hissed. "That's what the judge said."

"Yeah well the judge don't run this prison at night, now does he? I got some guards that can help me out real quick."

"Nemmins," a new voice said. "Shouldn't you be leaving now?"

And there he was, giving his classic stare. Michael! My eyes were wide. He had gotten out already. The moment Nemmins had left, slowly and quietly staring at Michael, I leapt off the bed and hugged him tightly, kissing his temple.

"You made it, you're not dead!"

He chuckled a little. "Not yet, anyway."

"Don't say that. Has something gone wrong with the plan already?" I frowned, taking a step back. Was he always that tall? He shook his head and I let out a slow breath. "Perfect. How was…Psyche ward?"

"I got what I needed," he replied.

"And that was?"

"The blueprints of my tattoos. Haywire managed to remember them, and draw it out. We need to get out of here fast, if Nemmins was serious about making you his new roommate."

"He can't do that, can he?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing. "Pope would notice that."

"Things are run differently in here Em. Just don't worry. Give me some time, I can get you out of here."


	22. Tonight

**Tonight**

* * *

"_I got a tortured mind, and my blade is sharp, a bad combination in the dark. If I kill a man in the first degree, baby would you, would you flee with me?__...That's me, the boy with the broken halo."_

- **Sinister Kid, The Black Keys.**

* * *

"Dogs. The numerous times I've been apprehended trying to allude the authorities it's always cause of the damn dogs."

We looked at Theodore, knowing he had a point. I pulled the woolly cap down over my ears, rubbing my hands together for warmth. Michael watched the dogs. They sniffed at the ground. I was always a dog-lover, liking them much more than cats. Yet now I could see what T-Bag meant. If we were to escape, the dogs would find us in minutes from a simple scent. Throwing them off would be difficult.

"Turns out you can run from just about everything in your life except for your own particular stink."

"Yeah well some of us stink more than others," C-Note muttered, scuffing the ground with his foot. Theodore leaned against the fence.

"You can smell like a bouquet of bon bons, but unless you get rid of your smell…you might as well send a note to the po-lice with directions and some cab fare."

"Theodore's right man," Abruzzi agreed.

"We gotta scrub down ourselves," Michael said, eying the dogs again.

"What about our bunks?" Fernando asked.

"Pillows, sheets, everything. Either get rid of your smell or change it," Theodore said.

Abruzzi looked towards the sky and sighed. I was hanging out with him more often, since he spoke about God way more than he used to. We sat in my bunk and talked a lot. He was always unsure if he could live a real life free of sin. You know, be forgiving and a good person and all that. I had learned so much back in my old life, when I was outside.

"How much time we got?" C-Note asked.

"John?" Michael asked.

"Three days."

They spoke about getting the suits. Guard suits to hide us in the dark. Theodore turned around and looked me up and down.

"What?" I asked. The guys all turned to face me then.

"I'm just committing your size to memory. I mean, you have to admit you're the shortest and skinniest here."

"I'm sorry that I'm not 6ft like you Theodore," I retorted. Michael smirked. Theodore took my hat off, letting my dark hair fall down a little. He rubbed my jaw line as I shuddered and stepped away from him.

"Theodore, what are you doing?"

"I have made a particularly life-changing realization boys," he said. "Emilie happens to have a feminine chin, and a feminine _everything_ else. In the spotlight of that guard tower, wouldn't they notice the outline?"

"Then we pad her clothes even more," Michael said firmly.

"Genius plan Pretty, simply inconceivable."

I grabbed my hat back from him, putting it on again. "Let's just worry about the dogs for now, okay T-Bag?"

"Sure Beautiful, sure. That's just dandy. They'll never notice that you're suspiciously more feminine than the other gentlemen amongst us."

After a while, Westmoreland shuffled up to us, looking worse for wear. "We gotta get out of here. _Now_."

"What?"

"Bellick found the hole."

"How?" Michael asked quickly.

"I don't know how, he just did. I covered it the best I could. But it's just a matter of time before someone discovers Bellick's missing."

Michael stared at the ground, and Theodore was clearly the most livid of all of us.

"What do you mean Bellick's missing?"

"I put him down into the hole, there was nothing else I could do!"

"Oh you are one Hell of a-…" Theodore began.

"Theodore. Watch your tongue, God sees all," John warned.

"Oh shut up, you're not the Pope himself."

"Nothing happens 'round here without Bellick's say-so," C-Note sighed. "Somebody's gonna notice that he's missing."

My nose had gone quite red from the cold, and I huddled into my jacket even more. Could anything else happen as bad as this? It seemed like whenever we got over one problem, another rose up from nowhere. Can't we just get a break for once!

"And when they do they're gonna close this place down until they find him," John said.

"What are we gonna do?" asked Sucre. I looked at Michael. We all did. Poor Michael. He was our lifeline.

"As soon as it gets dark, we go."

I gasped a little without meaning to. "Tonight?"

"Pretty we ain't ready to escape tonight," Theodore babbled quickly.

"The escape already started," Michael explained. "…the minute Bellick found that hole."

My heart thudded in my chest as we followed Michael. Tonight. It seemed so unreal. It was all crashing down on us. Up until now, the escape was all theoretical and filled with plan after plan. I imagined it night after night as I lay in my bunk, but thinking about leaving tonight made me feel so nervous. If something went wrong, I don't know what I'd do without Michael.

"And this is gonna end the minute they figure out that he's missing," C-Note said.

Michael stopped, and like sheep so too did the rest of us.

"Then stay!" he replied angrily. I watched him as he stared each one of us down. "I'll be sure to read the papers in the morning, see how many years you got when they realized which crew was working in that room."

"So what's the play man?" C-Note asked.

"Think you can have the plane ready by tonight?" Michael asked John. The angry red mark on John's neck – made by the one and only Theodore of course – was showing, revealing just how much John had to fight.

"Sure," he said, a quick smile on his face. It vanished as soon as he went to the edge of the group. He gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, so I must of looked worried.

"You have kitchen duty?" Michael asked C-Note.

"Yeah."

"What'd you use to wipe down the floors?"

"I think it was some peroxide or something like that."

"That'll work, get as much as you can. I'll work on getting us that key to the infirmary. The rest of you find whatever you can to get rid of your smell in your cells."

"None of this matters if we can't get into the guardroom."

Michael explained exactly when we'd get in, but I still felt unsure. I loved him, and if he was somehow left behind, I was sure I couldn't keep going. Say the dogs managed to catch him somehow, I wouldn't be able to keep running. I'd stay with him, I know it.

Michael wanted us to leave through his cell.

"Sixty minutes to get over that wall and as far away from here as possible."

"Quit your talking and start your walking," a guard yelled from far away.

Tonight. We were leaving _tonight_. No more coming up with plans, no more sitting around in cells picturing our escape. It was time to actually do it.

When the other guys had left, I stared up at Michael, seeing that he was equally worried.

"Michael, do you really think we can do it?"

"One way or another, I'm getting you over that wall."

"_Us_, Michael, us! Not just me. I'm not going to keep going unless you're right there beside me!"

He smiled and looked at the boys walking away. "Trust me. We'll be just fine."

Somehow I doubted that.

* * *

"Emilie! You are looking as fabulous as ever!" Katie beamed.

I giggled a little, spinning around in front of Sara's desk. "It's a new fashion brand of clothing called Prisoner by Fox State Penitentiary, you like the design? I thought it was flattering too."

She roared with laughter, drinking some coffee. She offered some to me, and I politely declined. I'm more of a tea person anyway. Even Sara managed a grin at my joke.

"If only I could be as perfect as you Katie," I laughed wistfully, sitting on her chair.

My tummy was practically in knots with worry, even if I was just messing with Katie and Sara. The idea of escaping was dreadful. A new weight was added to my shoulder at the guilt of getting these two ladies in trouble.

"You seem a lot more cheerful today," Sara noted happily.

I eyed the window that Michael had said we'd escape through.

"Oh yes," I said absentmindedly. "Very much so. Delighted actually. It's been a very…eventful day."

"Really? That's good. I saw you and Theodore Bagwell at the benches, you know. It worried me a little. I thought you might've joined his crew or something," Katie smiled. "Then I saw you with Michael today. Certainly made me feel a bit better. Lord knows Scofield is better than Bagwell."

I chuckled. "They're starting to get along, actually."

"That's…." Katie trailed off. "I'm not really sure what I think of that."

"Neither do I Katie, neither do I."


	23. Ghost

**Ghost**

* * *

"_On your way back home again, a Good Samaritan, you see a man stuck in the rain, stranded with no friends and from the goodness of your heart, you save him from the flood, a couple miles down the road he's covered in your blood."_

**Always Something,**** Cage the Elephant.**

* * *

The guards were wondering where Bellick is. They weren't too alarmed, not yet. Now I would just have to find a way to change my scent. Luckily for me, there was a 'woman' on the bottom floor with a whole shelf full of perfume. How she managed to smuggle them in, I don't know. His real name was Justin, but in here he was known as Justine and asked to be referred to as a she. Theodore stood beside me, watching Justine's cell.

Some men in the prison dressed as women, acted like women and wanted to be treated just like that. Now most guys just let them live the way they wanted, though sometimes it wasn't that easy.

"_Justine_? That's your big plan to change your scent?" Theodore snorted. "Borrow that wannabe-woman's perfume and spray it everywhere?"

"You got something better?"

"Sprouts."

"Sprouts?" I laughed. He glared at me. "Well Theodore, you do what you got to do. I'm going with this."

I walked right up to Justine's cell. When she saw me, she was putting on her…well, her wig. The man beneath the make-up was going bald, and if he wanted to be feminine, he had to wear a long blonde wig to become Justine. He was also busy applying make up, bright blue all across his eyelids. Then some bright red lipstick on his lips.

I don't know how he smuggled all of this stuff in, honestly. Bellick threw my own make up away long ago, but maybe that's because he hates my guts. Justine spun around with a very bright red grin, some lipstick on her tooth. A transvestite wasn't uncommon in prison after all.

"Hello Emilie! Finally come to talk skin products?"

"Actually I had something else in mind."

"Oh really?" Justine asked.

"Yeah," I smiled, pulling my hat off and patting my hair down. "Do you have any left over perfume?"

"Ooh, trying to impress Fish up there huh?"

"Something like that," I laughed. "Just anything you don't need."

Luckily Justine had at least three full bottles of perfume. Some of them smelled rotten, but that's exactly what I needed. The first bottle I took was a sewage colour and it smelled exactly the same. I smiled to myself and thanked Justine.

"Oh sure hunny! Make sure to tell Scofield to come visit me sometime, ya hear?" Justine winked.

I raised an eyebrow, just picturing Michael's face if I told him that Justine – or rather, Justin – wanted to spend a night with him. First off, I wouldn't allow that. Secondly, I don't think Michael would be that willing either.

"I'll be sure to. Thanks again."

* * *

At lunch, I sat with C-Note and Michael. I was in much better spirits than them, finally getting to drink some milk. No one interrupted me or knocked it over. I grinned at them and ate the rotten food served today, if you could even call it that.

"Tweener knows about tonight, doesn't he?" I asked, balancing a straw on my nose carefully.

"Yo, keep your voice down," C-Note hissed.

I dropped the straw, sighing.

"Yes, he does," Michael said, but he didn't sound thrilled about it. I glanced over at Tweener, who sat alone. All alone, tapping his foot nervously on the ground. "Emilie you're worrying again."

"Sorry."

"You worry about that kid too much man," C-Note said, shaking his head. "Damn. This whole escape is gonna send me to an early grave."

He was talking for all of us then.

* * *

As I sat in my cell, I looked out and spotted Nemmins in the cell across from mine. He pointed at me, and then made a motion of slitting his neck. The man in the cell beside him roared with laughter, and I knew Michael must be watching. I stared at Nemmins, trying to look fearless, but inside my heart was thumping.

He did have connections. But we'd get out of here before anything happened, right?

I turned back and began twisting the caps of the perfume bottles off, pouring the liquid inside all over my pillows, my sheets and everywhere else in my cell. Instantly I could smell the rotten scent. Hopefully it would work.

Now we just needed to get Lincoln out.

* * *

In every cell right now, every man involved in the escape is pacing back and forth. My mind feels like it is filled with cotton, and nothing is real. This escape is so unbelievable, it doesn't feel like it's really happening. We were all about to face death, and see if we'd survive. It was time to walk around freely, social time. When the cell doors opened, everyone left to do what they wanted, but everyone in the escape stood at their doors, sharing a look.

'There's no going back now,' I thought, with a crushing sense of doom on my shoulders. John appeared at the door of my cell a little while later.

"Are you ready, Emilie?"

From the queasy feeling in my stomach, I wasn't entirely sure. He outstretched a hand to me to help me off the bed, which I gladly took. I had dyed my guard uniform with peroxide, and as John and I passed Michael's cell, we handed our clothes to Sucre. He looked more nervous than Michael though, who nodded at me with a strained smile.

It was all catching up with him now. It was catching up with all of us. I stood in front of my cell and watched Slim and Theodore walking towards Sucre.

"If you get stuck in those pipes boy…" he whispered to Sucre.

"Bull," Michael said.

We straightened up. That meant a guard was coming. Unless you've ever tried to break out of prison – and I'm going to assume you haven't, but if you did actually try, I certainly hope it went well – you can never understand the fear that burns through you when you see someone who might jeopardize everything.

Much to my joy, Tweener appeared. I smiled at him, but he wasn't so happy. He handed Sucre his clothes.

"It's got blue spots!" Sucre exclaimed.

We looked down at it. Oh this is just what we need. Like I said, when one problem is taken care of, another always has to come up. There's always something. I stood between John and Theodore as we waited for Michael's signal.

"I said a prayer for you Theodore," Abruzzi smiled. He looked down at me. "I said a prayer for us all."

Somehow that made me a feel slightly better. I blessed myself, praying we'd all get out alive. I stepped forward beside Slim, eying the small group on the ground floor. Oh-uh, that body language wasn't very nice. The leader met my eyes and he narrowed his. I only smiled back.

Something was passed between them.

I straightened up and pretended to stretch. "Theodore, tell C-Note to hide," I whispered, trying not to look as if I was even moving my lips.

"What? Why?" he asked, looking more than annoyed.

"We're going to have some fine visitors." The group were quickly making their way up the stairs. Thankfully Theodore actually did what I asked. I heard some fumbling in the cell, but I didn't even look away from the group.

"What do we do man?" Slim worried.

"Now don't you go sweatin' all that fat off your ass amigo," Theodore whispered nastily.

We blocked the group, and I honestly don't know how I ended up at the front. Men can be such cowards sometimes. Abruzzi however was more than brave enough to take this guy on. As Abruzzi blocked him, I spotted the burn on this leader's cheek. It was fresh and raw. It had obviously happened very, very recently.

"Get C-Note out here."

"Huh? Haven't seen the man."

"That's real touching and all, you stickin' up for a brother," the guy replied. When he smiled, I wondered if he felt any pain from the burn. Theodore and Slim exchanged glances between each other, but I think Slim was about to pee his pants from his dodgy nerves. "But y'all need to step aside. Right now."

"He's really not here," I sighed, leaning back against the cell wall. He turned to glare at me.

"Did I ask you, huh woman?"

"My name is not 'woman', you _caveman_! It's Emilie."

Theodore gripped my arm painfully tight, warning me. The Leader smirked again. I held my tongue. If I so much as hit that guy once – which I could do to someone like T-Bag if he had made that comment – his goons would be all over me. That would totally mess up the plan.

John moved away, and the guy walked in.

I watched Michael look up at him with false surprise. "Something you need?"

He even checked under the bed, as if he would find C-Note squeezed underneath. "Where is he?"

"Told you. Haven't seen him," John said.

On his way out, the leader looked at me one more time. I glared right back. He was sexist, like most of the guys in here, with no respect for women at all. I could think of a few more things to call him other than 'caveman'. And none of them were very nice.

"Yo Em, you gotta watch your mouth," Tweener whispered.

"I'll watch my mouth as soon as men like him learn some respect," I replied angrily.

"Well we'll get back to feminist rights when we're safely over that wall." I looked at John as he spoke, and he usually had some respect for women. So I suppose I could watch what I said for a little while, just to be safe.

"Besides, seeing your pretty little face all angry just gets me all rattled up," T-Bag snorted. "Calling him a caveman made me chuckle."

"Tweener, do me a favour and never turn out to be a sexist loser like T-Bag over there when you're older."


	24. Go

**Go**

* * *

"_Did you become a monster? A really mean creature.__ Did you become a monster, trying to be like me?"_

**Montoire, Elephant Files.**

* * *

Michael's hand lingered over mine as he handed me the guard's uniform. He nodded and smiled at me as if to say I could trust him completely. Which I did. I stared into his eyes, knowing both of us could die tonight. Someone here might be left behind. I held the uniform in my hand, rubbing the fabric.

"Oh speed it up would you Romeo, we got an escape to do," Theodore huffed from behind me.

I felt incredible stupid when I crawled through that hole, because I realized Theodore would very much enjoy staring at my ass. Now I understood why John Abruzzi had kindly offered to let me go in front of him. When I came out to the other side, he helped me stand.

I could hear Theodore's smug voice echoing on the other side. "I have engraved that beautiful image into my brain for the rest of my life. Phew, you are a lucky guy Pretty."

I winced.

I waited for Michael to come through. In came Tweener and Slim. Tweener had fit through easily, and I patted his back as he passed me, sweating like crazy. Only Slim was much worse. Whereas Tweener and I had slipped through the hole easily, he kind of got stuck. Then I heard T-Bag again.

"Move your fat ass."

He could be so cruel. I gave Slim a hand, feeling his sweaty palm in mine. He looked at me with these wide eyes, as if surprised I had helped him. Perhaps he was used to the boys being mean or something.

"T-Thanks Emilie."

"No problem."

When Abruzzi crawled in, Theodore was in the middle of another rude comment about my ass from the other side of the wall, yet again.

"Don't let it get to you kid, he's only messin' with you," John said.

"Thanks John. I sincerely pray for that guy."

Theodore crawled in next. Then Sucre, and lastly Michael. I had been a little worried about him. Naturally with his low latent inhibition, Michael's empathy for others was heightened. If something went wrong, he was always the one to try and fix it. With our luck, something would most definitely happen. Yet on the other hand, I had to stay positive.

When we finally reached the next room, Michael was worrying about the timing. Sixty minutes for an entire escape seemed entirely impossible. We climbed through a hole in the wall, crouching down. This time I made sure I was behind T-Bag, wedged between Sucre and Tweener. At least I hoped Tweener wasn't a pervert.

Climbing through the tiny vents and holes made my knees ache, plus my back. But it would all be worth it if we were free. We followed Michael blindly, since he was the only one who knew the way. Out of all of us, Slim seemed to be having the most trouble.

There was clearly an advantage to being a smaller, more petite woman though. I had a little bit more room than the others. Not much, but it was better than nothing, right? Something positive to look on. Just as I was beginning to see the bright side, we heard something that made us freeze.

Yelling. If I'm not mistaken, that was Bellick.

We moved even faster, tripping over each other. Suddenly Theodore pushed past all of us, moving much faster. He got to Bellick before Michael and I.

"Scream and I'll cut out your windpipe," Theodore whispered.

"I need his jacket and hat," Michael said. Theodore went ahead and dragged Bellick along the ground. We got to another room, where we could finally stand and stretch for just a few seconds. Bellick spoke to Michael, really trying to turn us against one another.

"He's leading you off a cliff boys."

"You actin' like you still in charge," C-Note smirked. Everyone said their own goodbyes to Bellick, with Theodore tying him up right. Tweener came in, seeing Bellick.

"You," Bellick hissed. "You know he-…"

Tweener punched him. I looked at T-Bag, surprised at this. Then I looked at Michael, who nodded at me. Once again telling me to stop worrying about David, who left after putting Bellick's gag back on.

"Ciao, bello," John smiled at Bellick.

"Bye, Brad, thanks for a great time," I smiled through gritted teeth, using a completely sarcastic tone. "We'll meet again soon, I hope. Try not to miss me too much, will you?"

He growled under his gag. I had come to known Bellick as a slimy old coward, and honestly I didn't feel much remorse for just leaving him there, as cruel as it sounds. The man made our lives Hell when they were already bad enough.

Here came the tough part. We'd have to put our overalls on. This presented a major problem of hiding my body from the other guys – mainly, Theodore Bagwell. Michael handed me a hair-band to tie up my own hair. I recognized it as Sara's. She'd worn it last Tuesday, hadn't she? She had asked Katie if she'd seen it when I was in their office. Had Michael taken it?

I looked up at him, and he seemed to read my mind. "I had to Emilie. They'd have noticed you otherwise. Just tie your hair up and put this cap on. I'll be back in a minute."

"Hey where are you goin' man?" C-Note yelled. "Hey!"

"You heard the man," Sucre said. "C'mon."

It was pure white. This came from the yard, the woolly ones we wore in the yard when it was cold. He had probably used the peroxide to dye it that colour. I tugged it on. I straightened out the clothes Michael had given me, flattening it out and holding it against me, checking the length. I felt myself being watched. T-Bag was grinning and leering.

Thank God for Tweener. I hadn't even asked him, but he politely stood in front after he had gotten dressed. When John had finished, he blocked me as well. I was safe for now. T-Bag could behave himself, he just had too much fun doing bad things to care. The pants were a little too long on me, as were the sleeves. I had to tug on them and roll them up a little. The cap would fall into my eyes every now and then, meaning I had to pull it up.

John looked down at me and snorted. I had heard from other inmates that some of the mental patients in the ward wore caps. I had hoped they were right. Apparently some had their hair shaved off when getting treatment, but I'm not sure if that was true. We rarely got to see the patients.

"You look like a girl out of high school," John commented, motioning towards my height in comparison to him.

"_Oooh_, just my favourite kind," Theodore whistled. He was truly sick in the head, that guy.

Abruzzi was quick though. "Hm, thought boys were more your style there Theodore. You being such a creep an' all." T-Bag glared at him.

I worried about Michael yet again. This whole thing involved an awful lot of worrying. I would have so many wrinkles and bags at the end of this. Unless I was killed before we got over the wall. Uh-oh. Positive thoughts Emilie, positive thoughts. Tweener seemed to be equally nervous, eyes darting back and forth. I rubbed his shoulder and smiled reassuringly, and he laughed when the cap fell back into my eyes again.

The guys were getting restless waiting for Michael to come back. My heart thudded. Any minute now they could realize we were gone. I'm hard to miss, since I'm the only woman in that place. Plus Nemmins makes a point of staring me down as we wait for them to count up the prisoners. Slim was still the sweatiest of all of us.

Time was a valuable thing. Michael had been timing himself all along, ever since the day he came in here. I never questioned it at first, just finding it a little odd. I pushed my hair under my cap again. I saw Theodore staring at me again.

"Is it working?" I asked curiously. C-Note looked up at me.

"Sort of."

"Better than I expected it to," T-Bag admitted. I must be doing good if he said that. Slim and Sucre were hissing to each other by the ladder, but I was a bit too far back to hear exactly what they were saying. All I know is Slim was freaking out about this whole thing. 'Early parole' my ass. Linc must be one good liar.

"Man, this whole thing is messed up!" Slim panted.

"Feel free not to come Gordo," Theodore snapped.

I moved closer to Sucre, sliding in beside Slim and Tweener. He probably didn't even notice me, his nerves were so bad. Westmoreland, I noted, was looking quite peaky and pale by the back. C-Note glanced at him with a worried expression. Perhaps he was a little worn out because he was older than all of us.

"Where is Pretty?" T-Bag asked, annoyed.

"Man I don't know but he needs to hurry up," Tweener whispered, leaning his head against the wall.

I pulled my knees to my chest tiredly. How painful is it to be shot, I wonder? It would hurt like Hell, I guessed, but maybe if it killed me straight away…Once again I was having bad thoughts.

Out of the blue, an alarm went off. I jumped, and we all looked up towards the opening of the sewer. My hand wrapped around Tweener's to calm him. If my heart had been beating hard before, it was going into overdrive right now. We panicked, looking at each other with fear.

"We're screwed." I looked at Theodore as he spoke, seeing the real fear in his eyes. "We're _screwed_!"

They began to move, and it felt like a wave as they pushed me forward. Until Michael's Angelic face appeared. That could calm me down anytime. We all froze.

"We're moving forward. We stick with the plan."

He has to be insane. Is he suddenly deaf? Can he not hear the sirens? Any minute, I could imagine us being caught with the rabid dogs, foaming at the mouth as they tried to catch us. It wouldn't be hard for them. We were practically sitting ducks.

"Michael are you crazy?"

"Yo' Emilie's right man," Tweener babbled.

"It's the fire alarm in the Psyche Ward."

"How do you know?" Sucre asked.

"I set it off," he said, in such a normal tone it was as if he did this everyday. With Michael, nothing surprised me anymore.

"Why!"

"You'll see," he answered, climbing up the ladder. He peered out. A monotone voice was directing orders. We were so scared in those pipes. It smelled damp and disgusting as we waited, our fear and sweat only making it worse.

It was time to join the mentally ill, it seemed.


	25. Flight One

**A/N: **_Gah, it's the end! Took me long enough, huh? Sorry about that. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

**Flight**** One**

* * *

"_I am who I am today because of the choices I made yesterday."_

**- Eleanor Roosevelt **

* * *

A man was babbling about demons as I stood next to him. My eyes widened when he looked at me. Even if he could barely comprehend his own thoughts, I wondered if he knew who I was. That's the thing when you're trying to escape prison, you're always second-guessing yourself. Just as I held my breath, waiting for him to scream and yell for guards to warn them of this new girl, he started laughing manically.

"Demons coming for ya," he grinned. "Oh they comin' for all of us, kiddo. My daddy says the demons go after bad people! I'm bad, aren't I?"

This man wasn't much older than me, which made me a lot sadder. He had spiked up black hair, but it wasn't gelled. It was spiked naturally from him running his hands through it and tearing at it every few seconds. He pulled on his pockets, biting his thumb and sighing dramatically.

"Thomas, keep the line moving," a man working for the asylum called. Thomas, this man beside me, stopped laughing and a tear rolled down his cheek. I watched, horrified and feeling sorry for the poor guy. He had been laughing so much, but now he was crying.

"I don't like d-demons. They _whisper_ in my head, all day, you know?"

I didn't know. I hoped I would never _have_ to know. I attempted to copy Thomas's crazy, jerky movements, mumbling away to myself. I must be an amazing actress, because no one said anything to me. My heart was beating as we entered and Michael told the worker to hold up. Would he fall for it?

Apparently so. He opened the gate. As I passed Michael, I looked up at him, terrified. He seemed much more confident. I had to look back at the ground again. Tweener bit at his clothes, a smart idea. John was right behind me, doing a spectacular job himself, Theodore in front.

"Wait a minute," the guy said.

"Stay where you are!" Michael barked. He had Tweener, still acting and biting.

I chewed my lower lip, waiting for something to happen and ruin our whole plan. For all we know, the guards from Gen-Pop are already on their way over here, guns blazing and dogs barking. Theodore looked at me, and even he was unsure of himself now. Normally I would take pleasure in his suffering, but now was not the time.

"What's the problem?" Michael asked.

The man dragged him away from us, whispering something to him. Michael looked over at John as he talked. I looked up at Abruzzi. This was obviously about him. He seemed to realize this too.

"Oh John, I think we're caught," I whispered, feeling my nerves act up all over again. His eyes narrowed at the worker who was looking back at us. He hadn't seen me talking, thanks to Michael. I was all ready for him to yell and scream for guards, but he stayed calm. If you've ever been doing something bad, and you're balancing carefully between being caught and getting away with it, you'll know the knots and fear in your tummy.

The man looked at us again, and as he did Michael injected something into his neck. He was out in seconds. I let out a deep breath. Michael helped to set him down and told us to keep going, which we did immediately before anyone could catch us.

We were running down the hall. It smelled fresh and clean, just like disinfectant, a smell that will forever burn in my mind and remind me of this. Before I hadn't minded hospitals and wards like this, though now I wasn't so sure. I couldn't see Thomas anymore, so I don't know where the others had gone. We were in such a panic we tripped over each other.

Michael led us to a ladder. I was standing, watching the others go down until it was just me, Michael and Tweener left. Michael put his hands around my forearms and smiled reassuringly, pushing me gently towards the ladder.

"Mike, let Tweener go first," I said, seeing as he was the closest to it. He shook his head.

"No, you go. We'll be right down."

I trusted him, and climbed down anyway. Minutes later, Michael dropped down. He led the guys away, and I waited impatiently for Tweener. He jumped down. He took a step back when he noticed someone was waiting for him, but he relaxed when he saw it was just me. I smiled.

"C'mon David, you'll be left behind."

He blinked and began nervously, "Emilie look, you know when we get out? Michael, he said-…"

"Tweener."

We looked over at Michael. We hadn't noticed him coming in. He looked annoyed.

"Keep moving. Emilie, come on."

I couldn't help notice the nervous look Tweener sent me, as if he was trying to communicate with me through looks alone. We had no time to talk. I looked at Michael, but he was busy commanding everyone. He knew everything it seemed, and we were following him blindly. Whatever Tweener had wanted to say gave me a bad feeling. Michael spoke about bringing me to Panama.

I had dreamed of lying on sandy beaches with no real worries, Michael lying right beside me. Trust me, that was reason enough to risk my life. I hadn't really thought of what would happen to David when we got out. I assumed he'd have his own plans, but perhaps I could ask Michael – very, very nicely – if he could come with us? It didn't sound like it would work though.

We ran, finally getting to halls I actually recognized. We creeped our way as quietly as we could. I saw Lincoln first, and I gave him a bright smile. He was surprised, needless to say. There was a guard, which made me hold my breath yet again, but he was chatting as he read a magazine. Golly. We have a great system running here, clearly.

It felt much better to have some more convicts behind you as you faced this guard though. His eyes were wide as saucers. For once, I was smiling at a guard. A real, genuine smile. We were almost out. And now we had Lincoln with us! Maybe we could actually do this.

"Whoa, whoa, easy hey!" the guard said slowly, raising his hands up in surrender. That was much easier than I had planned it. In my head, I had imagined it to be like in the movies, with guns and threats or something dramatic like that. This guard was totally ready to give up. "I ain't a hero for $14 an hour, you do what you want."

$14 an hour, huh?

"Un-cuff my brother," Michael ordered. The guard did it straight away.

"You got it boss."

Finally, we were the bosses. Or rather, Michael was. If anyone enjoyed mocking a guard, it was definitely a tie between Theodore and Abruzzi. I still felt like a hero beside them though, even if I had to keep rolling up my sleeves and fixing my cap. Hey, there has to be something wrong I guess. It can't all go smoothly.

Lincoln had some nasty red marks on his face. I don't know how he got them, but if we get over the wall and make it to Panama, I'm sure he can give me a long detailed story about it while we lounge on the beach.

"Pretend I ain't here boss," the guard said. Liar, liar, pants on fire. The minute we left he would've called for help. Hoping he might get a reward of $15 dollars an hour, instead of just $14. The guard looked at me.

Theodore chuckled darkly. "You and the radio."

He had a very strong punch. It knocked the guard right down. That would leave a bruise tomorrow, I could tell. As Theodore took the guard down, I grabbed Lincoln's hand and pulled him off the bed. He seemed to be in a daze, following us with a shocked look. I think he had been expecting things to go wrong. We all had.

There was a very tense moment as Michael went to open the door to the infirmary. We watched, and I actually squeezed Lincoln's hand tightly without realizing. He didn't feel it. Perhaps I had no strength, and he was just built like a tank, or he was too tense to notice. It was open!

Hallelujah! I let go of Lincoln's hand in surprise. He had gotten out of his dazed state, finally realizing that we were truly escaping.

When we walked in, Michael began ordering people to do things. I stood staring at the chair I had been sitting in just hours ago as I spoke to Sara and Katie. They had trusted us. Would Katie hate me? Would…Would Sara? That hurt more than anything. This escape would have a domino effect, harming everyone involved at one point. It had to. There was no way of avoiding it.

"Emilie, wake up! Help me with the hose," Michael called. I looked over at him, blinking and suddenly coming to my senses. He looked concerned, until I followed after him. Had he said hose?

Yes. Yes, he had. He opened the glass casing, pulling it out. He handed one end to me and began to roughly pull out the rest of the hose. Lincoln and Abruzzi joined me. Annoyingly, every few seconds I had to push my cap back or roll up the sleeves again. They were moving quickly, and I joined as soon as I had fixed my clothes.

"Never expected you to be get away with a boy's look," Lincoln chuckled drily.

"The first thing I'm gonna do if we get out is buy a dress. A really girly, pink dress," I replied, smiling.

"I thought you didn't like pink," Abruzzi muttered as he tugged on the hose.

"I don't."

When we finally joined Michael and the others, they were standing dumbfounded at the elevator. It wasn't going down. It wouldn't close with the hose blocking it.

"Take your time. We only got uh," Theodore said, checking Michael's watch, "fifteen minutes to get over that wall."

Tweener stood inside the elevator, and with a slightly smug look, clicked the button. It actually closed. I could've jumped up and down with happiness then. Another problem solved. We waited and watched to see if the bars would be pulled off the windows by the force of the hose and elevator. We waited with baited breath. It tugged, a painfully loud noise screeching in the air until it finally gave way and broke off.

The floor had been padded with pillows and the bedding, so it didn't make too much noise.

"We're through," Michael smiled. It had worked.

Even from here, I could see the thick wire connecting us to the wall. That could hold my weight. Would it hold all of us though?

Michael quickly made us start working. I picked up the pillows with the others, when Michael smiled at me. It made my heart thud – God, my heart would give out from all of this. Then his eyes drifted past me, and he looked surprised. A bad, uninvited surprise.

Out of bad habit, I expected to turn around and see the guards, all ready to send us back to our cells. I would most definitely be transferred. I followed his gaze and saw a very big surprise.

Haywire. And he was holding the guard's radio in his hand, a crazed look in his eye.


	26. Flight Two

**A/N:**_ Thank you, Faithful Readers! :D Who knows, there might be another Season Two story…maybe! _

* * *

**Flight Two**

* * *

"_I wish I could make a deal with God, and get him to swap our places."_

**Running Up That Hill, Placebo.**

* * *

His eyes were crazy, wild with excitement. "I knew it."

"Haywire," Michael stated, disbelief in his voice.

How had he found us? Had he followed us the entire way here, without us even knowing it? He was still in his asylum outfit, with some dirt marks here and there. I didn't know Haywire as well as Michael did, but I knew what Michael had done to get rid of him. Theodore had said he was as crazy as a bat out of Hell, and had used some Southern saying to describe him, but I couldn't remember it right now.

"As soon as I saw you go into the Psyche Ward, I knew it! Either I come with…"

The boys took a dangerous step forward. I vaguely realized I had some sheets in my hand, gripping it so tightly it hurt. The moment Haywire felt the threat, he raised the radio as a retaliation. It sure worked. We all froze. If he so much as clicked the button, we would be screwed. Surely Theodore would have a deep Southern saying for that.

He was threatening us, saying he'd call a correctional officer. I wondered if he really would do it. If he did, the guys would be so angry they'd rip his throat out. Or at least, the man closest to him would. That being good old T-Bag, always ready to rip out some vocal chords.

From behind me, I heard Lincoln say, "He's in."

"What?" John gasped. I spun around on my heels to look up at him, frowning. Haywire was nuts, with more than just a few screws lose, or so I'd been told. What if he messed this up for us? Haywire's eyes widened in excitement, like he couldn't believe his luck.

Lincoln was the first to go. I'll never forget the fear of watching him. Would he fall? The whole plan would've been pointless if he had. He tested it carefully before grabbing it with his arms. Sort of like a monkey, he wrapped his legs around the wire and pulled himself along.

"I was never really good at anything sporty in school," I sighed. "Gym was not my favourite class."

"You're the lightest here," Michael said. "You should be fine."

'Should' being the keyword.

"Okay, after Lincoln, we got alphabetically," Abruzzi said. Easy for him.

I'm Robins. I'd be a bit far down on the list.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on, _A_bruzzi," C-Note said.

"Do you want a seat on the plane?"

That shut us up. We thankfully had taken off the asylum clothes. They would be slung across our stomachs as we went. Lincoln kept going, and then Abruzzi followed. I was waiting by the window for my turn when I felt Michael's hands on my waist.

"Yo' man what you doin'? It's alphabetical," C-Note exclaimed.

"She goes next."

When I was on the ledge, I had second thoughts. He anticipated this, kissing me quickly as the others sighed with annoyance.

"Michael, I don't know, maybe I should go after them," I whispered, my throat drying with fear. He stared me right in the eyes, searching mine. Theodore hissed something about Michael being annoying or something, but I focused only on him.

"I promise you will be just fine Emilie, okay? Lincoln will grab you the moment you get to the other side. I love you, you'll make it."

That comforted me right up to the point where I was dangling upside down, my uniform on my stomach. He had made one good point a moment ago though. Being a woman had it's advantages, clearly. The line bended only by an inch, a lot less than it had with Linc and Abruzzi. I made the mistake of looking down. It felt like my whole world was collapsing in on itself. I hated heights.

True to Michael's words, Lincoln's hands clamped around my waist and pulled me down onto the wall. It was a dizzy moment as my head cleared and got used to being the right way round. We weren't out of the woods yet.

"Emilie, listen to me," Lincoln barked. I looked at him, almost forgetting completely about his presence. I had been thinking of Michael. Would he make it across that easily?

Gingerly, Lincoln helped me step over the barbed wire and I made my way down to Abruzzi using the sheets Lincoln had tied together. It felt a bit like Rapunzel there. Only I was an escaped convict and I wasn't about to find a happy-ending just yet.

"Good, Em," Abruzzi said as I got down.

"Oh thanks John, I was aiming to impress you there," I muttered sarcastically, looking up the wall. I could barely see the outline of Lincoln's body, waiting nervously for Michael. I worried about him and Tweener the most. Lincoln had made it, thank God. Michael's plan was going good so far. I didn't want to jinx it though. Sucre came next, wiping sweat from his brow.

Haywire came down, and he looked at me for a few minutes. I felt uneasy with him just staring at me. Poor Haywire. He looked a little lost, but his eyes were still crazy. When Tweener came out, that was only half my fears gone. Now I waited for Michael, holding my breath each time Lincoln turned or paused.

C-Note and Theodore came down, and still no Michael.

"Come on Michael," I whispered desperately. Of course he would have to make me wait and panic. Typical. Linc looked down from high up on the wall and nodded with a thumbs up at me. I assumed this meant Michael was on the wire. It made me relax only slightly.

"Come on Michael!" I heard Lincoln yell. He could make it.

Please, please God let him make it. I clasped my hands together to keep myself from tearing at my hair.

The adrenaline pumping through my veins was drowned out by the sound of the alarm. Shit. Crap. The lights blinded me and I raised my hands to block them a little. I wouldn't run if Michael was caught. It sounds stupid, but that's just betraying him. I couldn't ever do it.

"Michael!" I yelled.

Tweener pulled on my jumper. "Emilie, come on!"

I refused to move, staring up, waiting for Michael to appear. I could hear dogs barking. My heart was in my mouth, blood pumping so hard I could hear it in my ears. My throat was so dry it hurt to yell for Michael. They would see him. It would be impossible to miss him dangling on the wire.

"Michael, _please_!" I yelled again, as if that would do anything to help.

The thumping in my chest worsened when I heard Lincoln yell. I heard the cars and the sirens, finally tearing at my hair. The cap fell to the ground, the hair-band undoing itself and causing my hair to fall to my shoulders. I was breathing heavily, sweating from fear. We had to make it out of this.

What would I do without Michael Scofield?

There was a loud snapping sound, and then a yell. I gasped, putting a hand over my mouth. Had the wire broke? Slim. I realized this in one quick thought. He must've panicked, and climbed while Michael was on it. It was the only explanation, Michael wasn't heavy enough to break it by himself.

"No, no, no.." I whispered.

He was there! I could see him!

Michael was alive, climbing down with Lincoln. I could've screamed from happiness, but we had more important things to do. All I could do now was hug him and beg him to never, ever scare me like that again. Theodore made a gagging noise.

"Can we hurry it up here, lovebirds? 'Cause I swear if we get caught now, it's your ass I'll come after Emilie."

Oh Theodore and his silly threats. Michael made us hide and watch the guards, seeing the dogs. They were heading right towards us.

"They can't smell us," Michael said confidently.

When the dogs started barking, Abruzzi leaned forward, crushing my arm beneath him. "But they can see us!"

The guards were turning, pulling out flashlights. Michael grabbed my hand in record time, pulling us up. We got out before the light hit us, running. Literally running for our lives. I managed to keep up with some ease, but I would have to tire out sometime.

We reached what looked like a lake. It was too dark to see much though, and we crunched over some twigs and leaves. Pushing against one another, we squinted in the dark to find a van Abruzzi was supposed to have waiting for us.

"Ye of little Faith," Abruzzi smirked. "C'mon, go!"

We ran again. The muscles in my legs felt like they could snap at any second. Adrenaline could only help so much before everything caught up with you. It was really there! Lincoln got into the driver's seat. Michael smashed the lights of the van before getting in. I sat squashed beside him. On his other side sat T-Bag, a slick grin on his face.

Haywire was beside Lincoln.

"John, where are the guys?" Linc asked. "Keys, where are they?"

"I told you in the garbage can in a plastic bag."

"What are you waiting for?" Lincoln asked Haywire. Haywire, the poor guy, didn't see the trick. He ran out, searching the bins desperately. Guilt hit me like a train. Leaving him behind like this.

Sucre took Haywire's seat. We drove off quickly, bumping in the seats. Haywire looked up, and even in the darkness I could see his shocked face as realization hit him. I leaned my head against the van door, sighing quietly. Michael still held my hand, breathing heavily and leaning forward in his seat.

"John you know I gotta ask you why you were so intent on Lincoln driving here and you taking that particular seat?"

I lifted my head, glancing wearily at Theodore as he glanced back at Abruzzi. Michael jumped suddenly as something clicked. His hand tightened around mine. Theodore had cuffed himself to Michael! John had a gun, which I hadn't even seen until it glistened in the light.

"Think twice, Johnny-boy," Theodore started. "If you shoot me, Pretty here'll be dragging around 170 pounds of dead-weight, and considering how much you need him to get that little Fibonacci vendetta of yours, huh? So I just think you ain't gonna be pullin' that trigger."

I closed my eyes, wanting to slam my head against a wall for two hours.

"T-Bag, you're insane," I hissed.

"Oh Beautiful, you don't know the half of what I'm prepared to do."

That was true. I had no idea. He was cunning, that's for sure. Michael looked at me, and I leaned my head against his shoulder, looking up at the ceiling. The smell of sweat was overpowering in the van, bumping along the road until we reached a smoother road.

Theodore chuckled beside us, rattling the cuffs. Michael's attention was diverted again. "You're gonna give me the keys, T-Bag."

Michael searched him, until Theodore revealed the keys in his mouth. He swallowed them! Oh God, he had actually done it. Michael was stuck with him. Abruzzi's eyes were hard and angry, and he still held a gun in his hand. Nothing he could do now. I was furious, clenching and unclenching my fists.

"Spit it out!" Michael and John chorused. They'd have to rip him open now. Part of me wished they would.

"Oops," T-Bag smiled innocently.

Michael put his head in his hands, breathing heavily. I hugged him slightly while glaring at T-Bag. He winked at me. I thumped his arm, having to bend over Mike to do so. My punch did nothing, because he just kept on grinning like a fool.

A wise fool though. He had been smart enough to know Abruzzi would try to kill him for slitting his throat. So much for turning over a new, non-violent leaf there John.

I looked around, counting us all up, realizing two more were missing bar Haywire.

"Where's Westmoreland and Slim?" I whispered to Michael.

He bent down as if trying to keep the conversation between us two. I don't see how that could have worked. We were squashed beside that idiot T-Bag, slyly grinning at Abruzzi who looked livid. T-Bag had caught him and it annoyed John to no end.

"Westmoreland…didn't make it," Michael whispered lowly. He must have been left in the infirmary. "He had a wound he didn't tell us about. He just couldn't make it, Em. And Sucre's cousin got caught as we got off the wall. I don't know what's going to happen to him."

Whoa. The other prisoners in Gen-Pop would murder him for sure.

Like petty children, T-Bag and Abruzzi fought. John threatened to cut him open to get the keys. A truly appealing image right now. Surprisingly, Michael was the one to yell at them. He never really raised his voice before, and it made all of us cons look up in shock.

"We can settle this in Mexico," he said.

"How far to the airstrip?"

"Five miles, maybe."

He was holding my hand so tightly it hurt, but I was gripping back even worse. We were scared, certain we'd see sirens and hear the police coming for us. Everything was depending on that plane. We had made it this far, we couldn't stop now. I glanced at Lincoln. He was gripping the wheels with a lot of force. His knuckles were white, and I couldn't even see his eyes in the darkness.

I had drifted in and out of the conversation. Sucre wanted to touch Maricruz's belly. If he has a girl, I want him to name it after me. After all, I deserve it. That baby would then have a fantastic life, simply because her name is Emilie. She could grow up and not be a convict. She could stay out of a jail and be a better version of me.

Oh God, being in the Psyche Ward really has made me crazy.

"We got trouble."

I looked up. "Oh no." We could see the flashing blue and red lights from here.

The cops were just up ahead. Only minutes away.


	27. Flight Three  The End

**Flight Three - The End  
**

* * *

"_And the dark shall emerge from the fiery depths of Hell, to swallow the shallow the hallow who dwell, in the shadows of all who are willing to sell their souls__ for this rap game."_

**-My Darling, Eminem.**

* * *

"Don't panic," Michael whispered. Easier said than done.

Lincoln pulled off the road. Those cops were too close for my liking. The guys were talking about how to get out.

"We gotta try and go around," Michael stated, his eyebrows drawn together as he tried to focus. "C'mon."

The van went down an even bumpier road. It was hard to sit still, banging my head on the ceiling once or twice.

"We're gonna get that key from you. I don't care if you have to crap it out," Michael said to T-Bag. Ew, what a horrible unwanted image in my brain. That would stay with me forever, unfortunately.

"You gotta foul mouth sometimes Pretty."

When the van went over another bump, I watched with joy as Theodore slammed his head. I managed to grip my seat in time and save my head a nasty bruise. Then we were stuck. The van must be stuck in some mud. It refused to budge. We didn't have time like this to waste.

"We're stuck," Lincoln growled.

"Everybody out."

Michael pulled me out in the cold night air. We tried pushing the van. The mud was impossible to get a grip in. My shoes sunk deep into it, and we weren't making a difference.

"This is pointless," C-Note hissed as he shoved.

"If Emilie actually had any muscles, we might actually make some progress," T-Bag muttered.

"Don't blame me you hillbilly," I replied curtly.

He glared, even if I could've come up with worse insults. Trust me, if I had had the time I could think up plenty. Sucre slammed the van as if that would make a difference. "This ain't going nowhere."

"How far to the airstrip?" Lincoln asked. I looked at Michael, dejected.

"On foot, maybe two miles."

"What the Hell are we waiting for? Let's move" Abruzzi asked.

Sucre made a good point about Michael and Theodore being cuffed together. I looked at them, frowning in worry. It would slow him down. I couldn't care any less about T-Bag, but Michael I did care about. A lot.

"Go!" Michael ordered. Like obedient soldiers, we did as he asked. After a few minutes, Theodore and Michael caught up, panting. I thought they were just late because they were tied to each other, yet Theodore was grinning at me knowingly.

"What?" I hissed, my sides burning from running already.

"That was pretty cold of you to leave Tweener all by his lonesome."

I stopped in my tracks. Michael froze, which caused Theodore to stop too. He looked at me with guilt and a little mix of horror. Leaving Tweener behind? I looked at the guys in front of us. T-Bag was right. David wasn't there. I gasped, turning back around.

Michael had let him go, without even telling me.

"Emilie, we need to keep going," Michael panted, grabbing my arm to pull me along. I shoved him away.

"You didn't even let me say goodbye to him!"

"And I can tell you why when we get to the plane!"

"Oh let's just hope the wolves don't catch him, shall we?" Theodore laughed. We all knew he meant the cops, and that put a lot of guilt on my shoulders. Tweener was a kid! He couldn't do this all by himself. The guys still running in front of us were grown men. All David did was steal a baseball card.

"Michael, Emilie, _come on_!" Lincoln barked. Instead of letting me go back to Tweener, Michael pulled me along.

In some sort of retaliation, I shoved his arm away and ran faster. I heard Michael tell Theodore he hated him, but of course T-Bag made some smartass comment, sounding like "Why you gotta hurt my feelins' like that Pretty? I'm a delicate, sensitive person."

I caught up with the others easily. In fact, I managed to make it to the front, keeping up with Lincoln. I didn't care that my lungs were burning, or I hadn't run this fast since Gym class. I would most definitely need to start working out if I made it to Panama.

There was the sound of helicopters catching up with us. All this fear made us run just that little bit faster. Lincoln stopped to rush us past him. Even if I was furious with Michael, I still looked back to make sure he was there. They were having a little difficulty, that much was obvious.

When we reached an edge, I was glad Sucre had been behind me to grab me before I fell over. I had been running so fast, I was lucky he was there. It was like a cliff, I realized as I straightened up and bent over to look down. The sound of the helicopters got so loud we turned. They were so close!

As quickly as we good, we hid among rocks. It missed us, but C-Note called out saying it was coming back. I clenched my eyes shut, heart hammering. The rock felt cold against my back, even if we were panting and sweating from the effort of running so far.

"Make yourself small!" C-Note yelled. Lincoln was much taller than me. It was pretty easy for me to scrunch up, but he could only stoop down. "There's no way we're gonna make two miles like this!"

"Way to be the optimist C-Note," I sighed.

"I'll be optimistic when I'm on that plane Robins!" he yelled back. "There's no way we can make it!"

"Not if I have something to do with it," Sucre grinned.

We followed his lead, running to a car with a trailer beside it. While Sucre tried to hotwire the car, I stayed well away from Michael, as much as possible. I wanted to show how angry I was at him. Dumping Tweener at a time like that.

"Looks like the two lovebirds are having a lovers quarrel, eh, Snowflake?" T-Bag smirked happily. Abruzzi looked over at me, and I looked away. Michael's eyebrows scrunched together in concern, and he sat down with T-Bag on a giant pipe next to boxes and barrels. I preferred to stand with Abruzzi. He played with the cross on his necklace before stuffing it back under his jumper and eying up the cuffs on T-Bag's wrist.

I looked over at the water, sparkling in the moonlight. What I wouldn't give to go swimming right now, to just relax and forget all about Fox Rivers. Where would Tweener have run to? Could they have caught him already? Would he…would he give us away?

I sure hoped not. I wanted him to be safe. But with all the helicopters and no Michael to help plan things out, his chances were slim. He might take what he could get, if a cop tries to make a deal with him.

When I looked up, Michael was staring at me. Abruzzi turned to walk towards Lincoln and I followed. Sucre was still busy mumbling to himself in the car. He rubbed the wires together, but nothing happened. In an instant, I went to the hood. John and Lincoln followed as I pushed it up.

And there was no engine.

Great. Just bloody fantastic, really. Of course, this just had to happen to us. Did we ever get a break?

We'd have to make a break for it and just run until we reached a place to hide. That helicopter would come back. I don't know if I really heard it, or if I was just paranoid. For a few seconds, the four of us stood, staring into the empty car as if an engine would magically appear if we wished hard enough. Nope, nada, nothing happened.

"Go get the others, we need to start running," Lincoln told me.

I did as he asked. When I jogged to them, they were still chatting quietly.

"Michael," I called. He looked up hopefully when he heard my voice. "We need to go. Now!"

They knew what that meant and were on their feet instantly. We took off running, with T-Bag and Michael at the very back because of the cuffs. Lincoln was the one to spot a good hideout. From a distance, it looked like a giant tool shed, or a farmhouse.

I didn't care what it was as long as it kept us hidden.

They went inside, and I waited outside for Michael. Lincoln joined me, when they finally came panting and dragging each other along. Michael really looked as if he could rip Theodore's head off at any minute. Could you blame him? Lincoln strolled back inside. When they finally made it, I took Michael's hand and pushed him inside. He looked fit to collapse.

"Come on Michael," I said, smiling at him anyway. Whether I was mad at him or not, I cared a lot more about him being safe.

"Where's my welcome party?" Theodore panted, putting his hands on his knees for a second.

"If anyone wanted you here, there would be a party," I muttered. "Unfortunately for you, we don't."

He chuckled. I hadn't been kidding.

When we got in and stood inside, Sucre and Lincoln closed the door. I was standing beside Michael, still clutching his hand when Lincoln shoved T-Bag onto the car bonnet. That meant I was dragged alongside them. Ah, we were finally going to get the cuffs off, hopefully.

When Sucre's attempt failed, Theodore laughed his head off.

"We'll fix it, Michael, don't worry," I smiled, though I wasn't so sure inside.

"I guess it was just meant to be, eh now fellas?" T-Bag laughed.

I spotted John out of the corner of my eye, wielding an axe. John was usually able to play nice, but somehow, he looked quite casual when holding that axe, like he did it all the time. Since he's a mob-boss, that wouldn't surprise me. Michael saw my alarmed look, twisting around to see what threat was coming at us next.

In a flash, I saw the most disgusting thing I had ever seen in my life.

_Abruzzi had chopped Theodore's hand clean off. _

I screamed a little as some of his blood splattered on Michael and I. Theodore's face was scrunched up in utter pain, and his scream would stay with me for the rest of my life. My mouth was wide open as he withered in pain, and I found it hard to look away. Michael was staring at the cuffs, before he looked up at me.

I hugged him, forcing him to look away himself.

"He's lucky I didn't take this to his head," John said, almost proudly pointing at T-Bag who fell to the ground.

"John…" I whispered in disbelief, unable to take my eyes off him. I would hardly call Theodore lucky right about now. Michael straightened up, putting his hands on his head, his blue eyes wide. The blood was drying on his jumper. I wiped some of the blood from my face. I'm not squeamish, thankfully, but that was the most horrible thing I had ever seen in my life.

"You cut his…" Sucre trailed off.

Theodore's hand was beside him, and he clutched his bleeding wrist. It was a stump now. The hand was looking pale. I felt sick, my stomach turning as I looked at it. Even though I hated what Theodore had done in the first place, I kneeled beside him, carefully edging away from the hand.

"Oh God," he hissed.

"Sssh, what's that?" Sucre panicked.

"Hey! Who's out there?"

Someone was outside, clearly. Theodore was still rolling on the ground and I held his arms gently to keep him quiet. He was in a world of pain right now, but this man outside might hear him. T-Bag was actually crying – I don't know why that surprised me. Wouldn't you cry if you had your hand chopped off? It's just I'd never seen Theodore cry before.

"Sssh Theodore," I whispered, and he actually managed to hold it in for a second. He could cry all he liked once that guy outside was gone. "Just hold on for a sec, please."

This was so surreal. Here I was, comforting a truly evil guy after he'd had his hand chopped off. Surrounding me were my friends, all convicts and escapees now. Hardly a fairytale life, but that was so overrated anyway.

"Hello?" the man yelled outside. Theodore was shivering, and I looked at Michael. The man had a gun, I could hear it clicking. Michael motioned for us to stay as quiet as I possibly could. I tried, my eyes darting to look at Theodore's severed hand every few seconds.

"Come on, let's go," Lincoln said.

I looked up in surprise. Go? Leave Theodore…here to die?

Only minutes ago, that idea had been appealing, but I had never meant it. I would feel such guilt for that.

"Emilie don't you dare," he hissed. "I need help!"

"Emilie, come on!" Lincoln barked.

I felt torn, but in the end Michael won. He grabbed me. Maybe he could read my mind, see that I felt horrible just leaving T-Bag to die. He didn't let me go for a while. I could hardly carry Theodore anyway, right?...I think I was just trying to atone for this sin. Abruzzi wasn't looking very remorseful.

Karma would come back for me, I knew it.

"The airstrip is on the other side of that field," Michael whispered. "Just 500 yards and the whole things over."

We were crouching, hidden. At least we hoped we were. The dogs would find us quite quickly. Whatever method we had used to disguise our scent would've worn off by now. We smelled like our natural selves, and that's all the dogs really needed.

500 yards seemed like a magical number. A lot less than the 2 miles we had a while ago. It almost sounded easy. Yet nothing was ever that easy. Not for some cons, anyway. There was a cop car just up the road, its lights flashing brightly.

"He's not moving," Sucre noted with annoyance.

"We can never get to it like this," I said.

"Every second we stay here is another chance for them to find the plane," Abruzzi said. "We gotta go now!"

"Wait!" Michael hissed. More sirens echoed in the air. It drove past. I held my breath. "Now!"

We moved as quickly as we could. Lincoln stopped Michael.

"Michael, I just want you to know, if this doesn't work out…"

"I know," Michael nodded.

Lincoln looked down at me. "Thanks to you too, short-stuff."

I scowled. "Last time I help bust your ass out of jail, Lincoln."

They smiled. I wished it was like this all the time. No cops, no danger. Just sandy beaches and some beer in Panama. If we got lucky, that was a huge possibility. Endless happiness. I should hope I have a whole lot of luck. Joining the others was simple. C-Note tripped, but Linc quickly helped him up.

We kept going. I wondered if Theodore had bled out yet.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

That voice sounded so electronic, I looked back. A cop car, on the bridge.

"Keep goin' Em," Michael called to me. I did. Once again, my sides hurt. My lungs burned. I could not wait to just go to sleep for hours, and have some nice food or a cold drink. The plane would be there. I repeated that in my head again and again. It had to be.

"I can't see it!"

Oh please, please be there. I prayed to every God imaginable that it would be there, waiting. We would get out alive.

"Keep going guys!" Lincoln heard.

I could hear the sirens drowning out his encouragement, which only made me run faster. Some guys were slowing down. I doubted Abruzzi ever ran this fast in his entire life.

"The runway's right there!" C-Note yelled.

"Just run," John panted. My heartbeat was pounding in my head, funnily enough. It was like a drum, getting louder and louder until I was sure it would give out or just burst from the pressure.

"It's there! Look, the plane's right there!" C-Note yelled. The best thing I had heard in a long time was that sentence. In the distance, the sound of the engine rumbling reached my ears. My leg muscles felt like they could give out. But we were too close to give up now.

I could do this. We reached the runway, coming to a halt. But the plane's lights were on, flashing blue and red. Just like the cop cars. It was coming right towards us. It was going to fly away, without us. Our only way out, and it was leaving us. We waved our arms, trying to grab the pilot's attention.

We were all desperate, screaming and yelling. But it flew over us.

We were stuck. "No! No, no, no!"

"What do we do now?" Sucre asked, breathing heavily.

After surveying the cars coming right towards us, Michael said, "We run!"

Our only way out had vanished. We were stranded on an airstrip, about to run for our lives yet again. When my sides burned and my head hurt from effort, we were going to have to run again until we could hide from the cops. My heart was pounding. Only now, we'd be running all over again.

Frankly, I was quite sick of that.

Michael looked at me just as the others took off running.

"We're gonna make it Emilie. I promise."

**The End.**


End file.
